The Price of Family
by Elpin
Summary: On the night of Voldemort's attack, Harry Potter is found by muggles and left at a workhouse. Years later Malfoy is looking for a safe and controllable playmate for his son and finds young Harry... Pairing Harry/Draco Set in 19th century.
1. Prologue

Hello all. I am now posting the first chapter of my new fic because I am totally stuck and in desperate need for comments to I can get inspired again! Hope you like :)

Title: The Price of Family

**Rating: R**

**Warnings**: There will be some sexual activity between underaged boys, but it will be of the experimental kind. Otherwise nothing that needs a separate warning apart from the rating.

**Summary**: Set in the 19th century. Harry Potter is found by muggles before Dumbledore arrives that faithful night of Voldemort's attack. They leave him at a Union Workhouse. Years later Mr. Malfoy comes looking for a safe and controllable playmate for his son…

**Author's note: **I studied workhouses as part of a course a couple of years ago, and all the descriptions are pretty accurate, though please allow for some artistic freedom. I will during this story mention workhouses by name and historic events. I'll be sure to add links to any relevant articles. Also, I highly recommend the book "The Workhouse" by Norman Longmate, which I read for my course, but also re-read because it was so interesting and a good read.

**Beta:** Once again the lovely [info]hidden_lily has offered her services. Thanks so much for your hard work :)

The Price of Family

_Prologue: _

Nineteenth century, England:

A knock was heard in the middle of the night and the porter awoke with a grunt. He dragged himself out of his cot, took his lamp, and went to the gates of the workhouse. Opening the small latch he peered outside into the street. Before the gate stood a lone figure clutching a bundle. The porter grunted again.

"What do you want?" he demanded. The figure stepped forward into the light of the lamp. A man, a farmer from the look of his garb, stood holding a bundle and looked no more pleased to be there than the porter.

"I have an orphan, a baby boy, found in a destroyed house."

"Destroyed?" the porter frowned.

"We believe it has burned down. My wife and I heard some explosion earlier tonight and found only this child when we arrived. My wife wants to keep it, but we can't afford him." The porter grunted and opened the gate. The man slipped inside and the porter led him to the workhouse master, who was in an even fouler mood at being awoken than the porter. The man told the master that the parents were no doubt the Pattons, or something, who had lived in the now destroyed house. They never had many dealings with them, even though they had been neighbours for quite some time. The master summoned a pauper nurse, an elderly woman of some sixty years, who took the baby with obvious distaste and went to see if a wet nurse could be found among the inmates.

"Should you not ask the doctor to examine him? The child has a strange cut on his forehead," the man who had brought the baby asked. The master dismissed the suggestion with a wave of his hand, and told the man that it was not his concern any longer.

The pauper nurse found a woman admitted just a week ago with her own baby. Luckily that child had died the night before. The woman, sick with grief and lying on a hard bed in the infirmary, was woken up by a rough hand and told to take the baby.

"What's his name?" the woman asked, cradling her new child as if her own had never died.

"How should I know? Last name is Patton I think. Give it a name to put in the records," the nurse responded gruffly.

"How about Harry?" the woman asked hopefully. The nurse shrugged and left. The master wrote in the records: "Harry Patton, orphan, approx. one year old, distinguishing features: lightning bolt cut on forehead." The wet nurse cared for the boy as much as she could. When he was three he was removed from the nursery and the woman who had cared for him later died of tuberculosis. Harry didn't remember her, nor did anybody else.

The child was of course the son of James and Lily _Potter_, killed by Voldemort that very night. When Sirius Black arrived at the scene no sign was left of the Potter family. In a rage he left and hunted down Peter Pettigrew and was later confined to Azkaban for his murder. Aurors arrived after his arrest, along with Albus Dumbledore, but no one could figure out what had happened. How was it that Voldemort had suddenly disappeared and the house destroyed? Even more troubling to Dumbledore was the absence of the Potter child. Had the prophecy been wrong? Had Voldemort managed to kill the child and get away?

The Dark Lord, however, turned out to be quite gone, though no one knew exactly how, but then again why question a good thing? Dumbledore was of course one of the few who remained unsatisfied with the explanation of the Potter murders, even more so because of his knowledge of the prophecy. Unfortunately he ignored a very important detail: the muggle family living just down the road. It would take six years before Dumbledore came back to the scene of the crime and questioned them; unfortunately by then it was too late.

Harry Patton was brought to the union workhouse, a wizard in an appalling muggle institution. No one knew he was the Boy Who Lived; indeed the term was never invented, and no one knew the significance of his scar.

XXX

In the children's ward play was unheard of, toys non-existent. The boys were kept separately from the girls. They were allowed outside in the yard at the master's discretion, which meant usually no more than once a week. The boys were employed in shoe making from an early age, the girls in household chores as preparation to becoming domestic servants. On Sunday they were kept silent in the schoolroom, a room just as dreary as the rest of the house. The schoolmaster, an old pauper with a limp who used to be a sailor, taught them absolutely nothing except the art of keeping silent. Their clothes were all oversized and coarse, marking them all as workhouse children, and they were forbidden to even run about in the yard as it would wear their shoes out quicker. The food was just enough in quantity, but seriously lacking in anything remotely resembling flavour. If a visitor were to gain access they would find most of the children sitting listlessly on the floor staring into space, struck dumb with boredom. If asked of the future they would only reply that they looked forward to moving over to the men's wards. Most of them had never been outside the workhouse walls.

Harry "Patton" was no different on the outside than the other boys, except for the deep green eyes and strange scar; he was just as thin and seemingly lifeless as the others. But there was something decidedly different inside him, and not just the magic either, for he possessed a dream. He resigned himself to his fate, for now, but rebelled in other fashions. Instead of causing trouble like some boys tried on occasion he swore silently that he would one day escape entirely. He knew he was just an orphan, nothing special, but he would nevertheless escape the horrible master and matron of the workhouse and run away as fast as his short legs could carry him. He became even quieter than the other boys, who liked to tease him about his scar mercilessly, though he had long ago become immune to their taunting.

The master and matron of the house were a middle-aged couple, the man an old sergeant in the army. They had never had children of their own, but even if they had, their dealings with the children in their care would most likely have been the same. Indeed all the workhouse patrons, of all ages and conditions, were treated with the same contempt and ruthlessness. While dining in style themselves, the inmates were kept alive mostly on gruel, the growing children and sick as well. The workhouse would most likely have been characterized among the worst sort had an inspector bothered to visit. As it was that had not happened for many a year. The one time the young inspector had come he had been satisfied with a three-course lunch and a walk about the practically empty yard.

This was the place Harry Potter, the baby who had stopped Lord Voldemort, lived, though barely it must be said. No one from the magical world thought his name. They knew the name Potter, to be sure, but only as the people who were last killed before Voldemort's disappearance. They were believed to have managed to kill the Dark Lord before their own deaths. The baby, however, was forgotten, like many a child in the Union Workhouse.

Tbc…


	2. The Workhouse Life For Me

Author's note: Thanks so much for the nice comments. Here's my birthday gift, hobbit style ;) hope you enjoy it

Beta: hidden_lily Thanks so much for your hard work :)

_Chapter One: The Workhouse Life For Me _

Sunday morning the boys were ushered into the small schoolroom. The windows were so dirty that very little light came through. The walls were grey stone, just like the floor. Only a few benches were scattered around the room. Harry Patton sat as silent as the rest of the boys when the old sailor entered, a birch stick in his hand in case of trouble. The boys were between three and fifteen years old. Harry stared wistfully at the wall, a dull expression on his face that was echoed in the faces of the other boys.

"No! I don't want to go! I want my mummy! Mummy!" A scream was heard from the corridor and the boys looked up at the door expectantly. Such cries were a welcome interlude in the otherwise unexciting life in the workhouse. A moment later the matron pushed a boy inside the room. He couldn't have been more than five years old.

"If you don't keep quiet you won't ever see your mummy!" the middle-aged woman said angrily. She was looking down her large nose at the teary-eyed boy with disgust. The old sailor was gripping his birch stick tightly, obviously just waiting for an excuse. The boy and his mother had no doubt entered the workhouse that very day, mother and children being separated immediately. Now the boy was already wearing the workhouse uniform. The matron gave him one last glare before turning on her heel and stalking out of the room. The boy let a hard sob escape him, but managed to keep his tears from falling.

"Go sit down and keep quiet," the old man growled, gesturing towards the benches with the stick. "I won't stand for any mischief!" The boy didn't seem to hear the man as he just kept staring at the door. "Did you hear what I said?" the man cried, coming closer and grabbing the boy's shoulder roughly, spinning him around.

"Mummy!" the boy cried, trying to get away from the man. The old sailor just held harder.

"Stop yer whining!" he yelled and pulled the now sobbing boy towards him. "Stop it!" he shouted, but the little boy just sobbed louder. Finally the man raised his stick and struck the boy hard on the back, causing the boy to fall down to his knees. The other boys just sat and watched on in morbid fascination, the only feeling a sense of relief at being spared the punishment themselves. One boy, however, had a frown growing and anger spreading through him like fire. His mind was going through his own floggings for trivial offences and he knew deep down that this boy had done nothing except miss his mother, something Harry did all the time, though he wasn't sure if he had ever had one. The old sailor landed three more blows in quick succession and the boy fell forward onto the floor, sobbing and crying out in pain.

"Stop it!" Harry yelled, rising from amidst his shocked fellow inmates. The old man couldn't hear him over the sobbing boy, as he was almost deaf. "Stop it!" Harry yelled again, and right then something extraordinary happened. As the man raised the stick to give the boy another blow only his empty fist came down. The stick hovered above him. A collective gasp was heard from the boys sitting on the benches. The old man looked curiously at his empty hand before looking around on the floor to see if he had dropped it. The sobbing boy stilled slowly when the blows stopped. He looked up to the gaping faces of the other boys and the determined look in Harry's eyes. He then followed the shocked gazes to the air above him and stared wide-eyed at the suspended stick. The old man was still grunting and looking about the floor, getting down on his knees and looking under the benches. Suddenly the stick came down hard and struck the old man on the back, causing him to cry out loudly in pain and surprise. The stick rose and another blow was struck, extracting another cry. By now Harry was wide-eyed himself, unable to stop what he had somehow started. Again and again the stick struck the old man until he was lying on the floor sobbing almost as bad as the little boy had been. All the boys were standing around and watching the stick administer its punishment.

"What's going on?" the matron's voice came from the door. Immediately the stick fell to the ground and the boys jumped back several feet from the limp body of the old man. The matron came forward and stared at the schoolmaster in shock, quickly turning it into outrage as she glared at the boys. "Who did this?" she demanded, her eyes darting dangerously between the older boys. At first no one moved, all of them unsure about whom exactly to blame. "Confess now or you'll all be flogged!" she threatened. Now a few fingers pointed quickly towards Harry, more and more following until everybody except the recently sobbing boy was pointing at Harry, though no one dared to meet the shocked boy's eyes. The matron grabbed Harry by his shirt and dragged him towards the door. "All of you back to the ward!" she ordered before leaving with Harry to take him to her husband and to summon the nurse.

Harry was pulled harshly down to the master's office and thrown to the floor. He kept silent as the matron explained what had happened, though her version of events seemed completely new to the young boy. The master agreed that a good flogging was in order and took care of it himself, his wife standing to the side and nodding as if a great justice had been carried out. Harry cried out, he had still not learned to be silent, and his pain only made the master point out that begging would do him little good.

The five-year-old spent two nights in the infirmary ward, though you could hardly tell the wards apart except for their size and occupants. He received the same food and treatment; his only comfort was being spared work for a couple of days. The old man had survived, but he refused to enter the schoolroom again, and the master needed to find someone else to fill the post. Until then the boys went without school, not that they really noticed the difference anyway.

When Harry returned to the boys' ward he was met with suspicion, awe, fear, and gratitude. Harry shrugged off the questions from the older boys demanding to know how he had done it. He wasn't sure if he _had_ done anything. Surely there was some other explanation? Harry slept uneasily, images of a green light haunting him, and awoke sweating and screaming with no memory of the dream. His blanket was, for once, not stolen by one of the stronger boys, though Harry refused to dwell on the reason for that.

As Harry clutched his tattered blanket to him, he tried to force his eyes to stay closed, and prayed sleep would take him, he couldn't help but wonder what was different about him. For something had happened in that classroom that shouldn't have, and it had been his doing. It was almost like … Harry didn't know the word for it. He just knew that sticks weren't supposed to hit you on their own … but then again Harry felt sure that he had been the one hitting with the stick, he just hadn't been holding it at the time.

The next day Harry worked silently all day, while ignoring the stares and whispers. A day later he made a mistake while working and received another beating, just as hard at the last. Young Harry got the distinct impression that his punishment wasn't just for the shoddy work he had done. Judging by the look in the matron's eye, Harry was pretty sure he was still being beaten for making something different happen.

As weeks passed the atmosphere in the boy's ward gradually went back to normal; except for the fact that not one of the boys liked to be around Harry. Even the boy who had been saved only smiled occasionally, and kept to himself. Harry didn't mind; he had rarely spoken to the other boys before. He allowed himself to glance at the wall of the workhouse and dream on occasion. It was one thing they could not beat out of him: his dreams of escape. And the matron seemed to know this instinctively as she beat Harry almost routinely. Harry would find a special place when the pain started, and the matron would know, and beat harder, but she could not reach him. He was over the wall already.

xxx

A few months later and fortune seemed to smile at the children in the workhouse, or perhaps not so much smile as shrug apologetically. An inspector from the Board came on a surprise inspection. The inspector turned out to be a woman especially sent to check on the children. She stepped into the ward with wary steps, her pretty little nose scrunched up. The master and matron had at first refused to let the woman in, but she had convinced them.

"I have been granted the power to examine these children for signs of serious neglect," she declared, moving further into the room despite her obvious disinclination to do so. She was a fairly young woman, a member of the Workhouse Visiting Society, and an accepted authority on workhouse conditions, despite her sex. The master and matron exchanged worried glances behind her back as she surveyed the small ward. The boys sat on their hard beds or the floor, which was practically the same thing. There were no chairs and the windowsills were sloped to prevent the use of them as a seat.

"Now, do not be afraid. I am here to help you," she said, trying to overcome her disgust at the dirt and convince them of her kindness. The boys just stared at her as if they were both deaf and dumb. She suddenly spotted Harry sitting on his bed, looking at her with wide green eyes impossible to ignore. She came towards him and bent down to look him in the eye. "What's your name?" she asked, sounding now genuinely kind and concerned, her revulsion for the atmosphere forgotten.

"Harry," he whispered and she smiled softly at him.

"Would you come with me for a moment, Harry? I promise nothing bad is going to happen." Harry looked at her curiously for a moment and the woman had a sense of her very soul being looked over. In the end he nodded and she held out her hand for him to take. She took him to a quiet place where she could examine and question him. Unfortunately for the master and matron Harry had been the target of more than a fair amount of beatings from them. The matron especially thought him dangerous and in need of discipline. She also hated the fact that Harry didn't cry anymore when he was being disciplined, which only enraged her further. Harry was therefore perhaps not the best example of the average boy in the workhouse, but then again maybe that was a good thing. When the inspector asked Harry to remove his shirt she was shocked to find the many bruises. She questioned him about conditions in the workhouse and he answered to the best of his abilities. The inspector noted that he seemed like a smart boy with good observation skills, though he was very shy. When she was finished she returned Harry to the ward and confronted the master and matron.

"My report on your house will be before the Board by Monday. I suggest you save them a letter and resign without their prompting. Good day." The master and matron saw the inspector off and then took her advice.

A short time later an official enquiry of the workhouse was underway. Not just the children's ward either. Afterwards conditions did improve, though an improvement of any kind in a workhouse was a dubious term. The new master and matron, however, did seem to be a much better couple suited to the tasks at hand. They didn't cheat the workhouse for money at least and started making the changes suggested by the inspector. First of all they hired a real nurse to supervise the other pauper nurses, something the doctor was grateful for. The diet didn't change much, but some extra rations were granted the sick and elderly. A real schoolmaster also appeared and actually began to teach the children to read and write, though he could be just as hard as the old schoolmaster, and answering questions only meant there were more excuses to discipline them.

-:-


	3. The Price of a Muggle

_I thought I would write another chapter this week, but I still need more comment to get inspired it seems. I think I have 7-8 chapters ready to post, so we won't run out right away, but this writer's block is annoying._

Super big thank you to Hidden Lily for the beta work :)

_Chapter 2: The Price of a Muggle _

The children kept talking about how things were better now with the new Master and Mistress. Harry couldn't really agree, though he never said a word to the other boys. They ignored him in turn. All the boys were already employed in shoemaking. Harry liked to work, it meant he didn't have to think about anything that made him feel bad. He hated going out into the yard, for it only meant he had to stare at the wall and pray that he would one day be tall and strong enough to climb over it and disappear. It wasn't a prison, it should be said, but a young boy like Harry didn't understand the difference.

Sundays were worse than before, in Harry's mind. He had no use for the letters and prayers he was taught. The old sailor had beaten them all equally, but the new teachers – having been informed of Harry's oddness by the Mistress – tortured Harry weekly. He would get Harry to read from scripture, and listen with sharp ears for even the tiniest mistake. He would then berate and flog Harry for his inability to learn a single thing. The other boys thought this made excellent entertainment. Harry didn't cry when he was in pain anymore, and like the Mistress, the teacher made it his mission in life to wrench a drop from Harry's eye.

Despite all this, Harry continued to imagine a life beyond the walls of the workhouse. Little did he know he was about to be freed from his hell, though it would be nothing like he imagined.

xxx

Now, Lucius Malfoy wasn't what you would call a man of principle - he was really more pragmatic than that - but he would most certainly describe himself as such. He believed in the continuation of pureblooded wizarding families. He believed a wizard should not, under any circumstances, marry or have a child with a muggle. Then again, Lucius Malfoy wasn't what you would call a stupid person either, and he would readily agree with you on that. He had joined the ranks of You-Know-Who as an idealistic young pureblood heir. Now, however, he was older, wiser and most importantly: _realistic_. The fight for pureblood wizards would not be won through some crusade headed by a half-blood who couldn't even live up to his own standards and then just up and disappeared. It would be won by politics, and that was something Lucius knew well and respected. Unfortunately, being one of the Dark Lord's most trusted followers, and having only just managed to escape Azkaban after the Lord's sudden disappearance, Lucius could not openly advocate the changes he wanted in case it permanently damaged his reputation. The current Minister was a pathetic liberal old fool, but Lucius still used his skills to sway the minds of people without anyone mentioning his name. He was otherwise content to stay at home or keep busy with his work on the Board of Governors of Hogwarts.

Another thing that needs to be said about Lucius Malfoy is his views on muggles in general. Just because he detested crossbreeding didn't mean he couldn't accept that the muggles were there to stay. He considered them in all things inferior of course, but he could still appreciate the little things they could be good for, like agriculture. It was the mixing of wizard and muggle he was against, not necessarily all muggles.

It was because of this view that he had opted to do something unconventional. His wife, gone insane when the Dark Lord was declared dead, had been shipped off to a _very_ private mental institution. His only son, Draco, his pride and joy, was feeling a bit lonely. The other pureblood sons his age were just not enough. The Manor was far away from any neighbour, and despite the magical ways of travel the other children were rarely invited. Lucius didn't like other wizards in his home, who knows what they might find? And he didn't like sending Draco away to other families, respectable though they may be. He just liked having his only heir in sight. There were still those that meant him harm, on both sides. And house-elves certainly weren't up to the task of playing with a young boy.

That was why Lucius found himself walking up to a muggle union workhouse on the first of August, early in the morning. He was going for the only available option. Something that would ensure Draco always had someone to play with, without the fear of parents snooping about for evidence of the Dark Arts. This way he could also train the boy, make sure the creature knew its place. Lucius gazed up at the dreary, though formidable looking, brick building. It looked more like a prison, Lucius mused as he stepped up to the gate. A muggle porter peaked through the small hole.

"What you want?" he said, his voice hoarse. Lucius swallowed his disgust at having to deal with muggles, especially these kinds of muggles. He was doing this for his son, he reminded himself. He couldn't suppress the sneer that graced his features.

"I have an appointment with the Master of the house. My name is Mayhew, Lord Mayhew." He didn't really have the title, as it was a muggle one, but it was so easy to fake such things in the muggle world. The name was the usual name he used in the muggle world when he wanted to keep things separate from his wizard affairs. The porter, predictably enough, sprung into action and got the gate open.

"This way Milord," the porter said and led the way. They entered a small office on the ground floor. Behind the rather small desk sat an equally small man. His clothes were simple, but clean and he smiled kindly as Lucius entered.

"Lord Mayhew, I have been expecting you. I am Mr MacDougal," he said with only a hint of an accent. He held out his hand and Lucius took it, only just managing to make his sneer into a smile. Lucius was wearing impeccable muggle clothing and looked like a Lord should. He wouldn't lower himself to be seen in anything less, even if he was only dealing with muggles. He made a show of fishing out his gold pocket watch and checking the time.

"I am a very busy man, Mr MacDougal, as I'm sure you understand," he drawled.

"Of course! Let's go then, shall we?" Lucius gave a curt nod and the master gestured for him to go first. They exited the small office and MacDougal led the way up to the first floor and down a long empty corridor. Lucius scrunched up his nose. There was definitely an air to the place he wasn't used to. Perhaps this had been a bad idea? "We are always so happy when we can offer one of the children a foster home. The best place for a child, really," the master said conversationally as they walked. Lucius didn't answer. "I suppose you're not doing this for the allowance, hmm?" MacDougal tried a weak chuckle, but Lucius just frowned. He had read up on the practice of boarding out children to foster homes. The foster-parents were given a few shillings a week to keep a child. _'Hardly a sickle,_' Lucius mused. Finally they stopped in front of a worn wooden door. "This is the boys' ward," the master explained as he opened the door. Lucius stepped inside and looked about with clear distaste. Obviously, muggles were even more horrible than he had expected. The room had fifteen occupants. There were enough beds, but by the look of them there were no softer than the stone floor. The children sat around looking almost dead. They each wore the workhouse uniform, coarse grey trousers and blue striped shirts. They had a blanket, but no pillow.

"This is how your children sleep?" Lucius asked, unable to keep silent as he took in the thin boys.

"Well, yes," the master said, sounding a little unsure. "We must adhere to the principal of less eligibility," he explained weakly.

"Less eligibility?" Lucius asked, turning around to face the man.

"Well, the pauper children can't have it better than the average labourer's child. People would think we were favouring paupers, and then everyone would want to dump their children on us." Lucius scowled at the man, but didn't bother to comment. These muggles were even dumber than he thought. This was obviously a very bad idea. He turned back to glance one last time at the miserable bunch. Just then something, or rather someone, caught his eye. In fact his eyes caught the sight of a pair of green eyes staring at him with curiosity. The little boy was sitting on the bed closest to the door. He was just as thin as the rest, his black hair stuck up in every direction much like the others, but his eyes shone with something different.

"You," Lucius said, pointing to the boy. "Come here." The little boy jumped off the bed and came forward, focusing his eyes to the floor. "Look at me," Lucius said softly. The boy hesitated for a moment, but very slowly lifted his head and looked up. "What is you name?"

"Harry, sir, Patton, sir," the boy said very quietly.

"He's an orphan, Lord Mayhew… but I don't think he would be a good addition to your house," MacDougal commented from behind them. Lucius turned to the man again.

"Why?"

"The schoolmaster tells me the other boys think he's … possessed."

"Possessed?" Lucius said, raising one eyebrow.

"Yes, Sir. The nurse told me once his wounds healed by themselves, though I'm sure that isn't true."

"Wounds?" Now the master looked really uncomfortable, talking about possessed and beaten children with a Lord. MacDougal didn't beat the children himself, but the schoolmaster said it was necessary, and he had agreed wholeheartedly.

"He … he has a tendency to fall," the man lied pathetically.

"If he is an orphan then I will take him. Now," Lucius said simply. The master nodded, glad really that the boy would be gone.

"Yes, Sir."

"And you will keep the allowance." The man nodded and came into the room to take the child by the hand. Harry took it obediently and Lucius followed them as they walked back to the master's office. After the paper work had been done Lucius said he would take the child away immediately and paid MacDougal for the loss of a uniform. Harry didn't say a word as he and Lucius walked side by side out of the workhouse, neither of them glancing behind them once. Lucius had a post chaise waiting for them outside the gates and he let the coachman lift Harry into it. Lucius got in, sitting across from Harry and studying the boy. Harry was too preoccupied with looking out as the landscape drifted by. He had never been outside the walls of the workhouse, as far as he could remember. Lucius couldn't help a sigh escape him. What had he gotten himself into?

The ride was long, but Harry didn't seem to mind, and it gave Lucius the opportunity to study the boy and his own choice. The boy was timid if addressed directly, but had a natural curiosity if allowed to sit quietly to look about. The deep green eyes shone with something beyond the boy's years, but Lucius couldn't quite place it. He watched with silent amusement as Harry finally caught sight of the Manor, his eyes widening fully. It was now almost evening. Lucius could have used magical transportation to get there, but it was a secret pleasure of his to ride in the post chaise up the long road, passing the old trees lining it and looking over his grounds. Harry couldn't suppress the exclamation at the huge building.

"It's so big! How many live there?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the Manor. Lucius decided to ignore the informal way Harry had addressed him. It had no doubt been a shocking day for the boy.

"Only my son and I, along with the servants, and now you," he said. "Before you meet my son there are a few things we must attend to." Harry seemed to regain his shy nature as he realised what he had said. He nodded and looked down at his feet for the rest of the trip.

As they entered the Manor Harry couldn't help but look up at the unbelievably high ceiling of the entrance hall with a gaping mouth. Lucius led the boy up the large ornate staircase and down a series of corridors. He had been debating with himself all the way on how best to handle the boy's introduction to magic. He decided that it would need to be done carefully. He was going to make sure the boy turned out the way he wanted. After going through several luxurious rooms, they stepped into a large bathroom. Everything was marble and gold, and very clean looking. In the middle of the room was a large bathtub, the ornamentation all snakes. Lucius led Harry to the middle of the room and turned on one of four taps, water with only a mild soap and scent added, and the bathtub filled with magical speed.

"Do you think you can undress and get in the tub while I go and check on a few things?" he asked. Harry nodded and immediately started ripping off the coarse shirt. Lucius left the bathroom and summoned one of his many house-elves.

"Master Malfoy, Sir," the little elf said with a deep bow.

"Where is my son?" Lucius asked, checking his watch and realising he still had muggle clothes on. He sighed tiredly.

"Master Draco is in his room, Master Malfoy."

"Good. Do not tell him I am home yet. I have a … present for him. I will call you into the bathroom in a few minutes. You will bring some clean clothes, some plain old ones of Draco's muggle collection." The house-elf nodded and bowed again. Lucius entered the bathroom. Harry was sitting in the tub, looking unsure whether to be nervous, afraid, or just happy. Lucius tried smiling at the boy. Harry was a human being, not a house-elf after all. Even Lucius could admit that.

"Now, Harry. Clean yourself properly and then we will go over a few things." Harry nodded. "Get your hair as well," Lucius commented as he noted the dirt there. Harry leaned forward and cupped water in his hands. He splashed his hair a few times until it was wet. That was when Lucius finally noticed the strange scar on Harry's forehead. He came forward and crouched beside the tub, taking Harry's chin and turning the face towards him. "Where did you get that?" he asked, the other hand going up and lightly touching the scar.

"Don't know, Sir. I've had it for as long as I can remember," Harry said, looking nervously at Lucius. It didn't look like a normal scar, Lucius concluded, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. He let go of Harry.

"Now, Harry. First of all you need to be introduced to my servants. I don't think you've ever seen a house-elf before have you?" Harry frowned in thought and shook his head. Lucius looked at the boy thoughtfully for a moment. Perhaps the best way to do this was just to show Harry? He called the house-elf and it appeared by his side an instant later. Harry jumped slightly, but didn't seem to be too afraid.

"Master Malfoy, Sir," the elf said with a bow, holding up the clean clothes. Lucius ignored it for the moment.

"This is a house-elf, Harry, it is a magical creature," Lucius explained.

"Magic," Harry said, but Lucius was unsure if it was a question. He answered it anyway.

"Yes, Harry. Magic is quite real and I am a wizard, as is my son. You are what we call a muggle, a non-magical person." Lucius wasn't sure if Harry had heard him as the boy was eyeing the still bowing elf suspiciously. Lucius decided to let everything sink in for a bit. He wasn't sure how slow muggles were, especially a boy who hadn't been outside that place his entire life. He turned to the elf. "You will clean the boy and dress him. Inform me when you are finished."

"Yes, Master Malfoy," the elf said, trying to bow even lower than it already was. Lucius rose and left the bathroom without another word. Harry let himself be cleaned by the strange creature. It looked as fearful as Harry felt sometimes, so it couldn't be that dangerous. Besides, the nice man had ordered it to clean Harry, and the man had saved Harry just like he had dreamed of. Nothing could be worse than the workhouse; indeed Harry vowed right then and there that he would rather starve than go back. Then there was the magic to consider. Harry's mind went back to some of the strange things that seem to happen around him. Had that been magic? But the man had said Harry was something else, a muggle. He shook his head to clear it and decided to just go with it. Harry was very good at resigning himself to a situation.

When Harry was standing clean and dressed in the bathroom the elf popped away and a few moments later Lucius appeared again. Harry didn't meet the man's eyes, but stood quietly to await the man's judgement. Harry was wearing some of Draco's old muggle clothes for when they needed to go into the muggle world, clothing every wizarding family had just in case. They were simple, but far more elegant than anything Harry had ever seen, let alone had on. The fabric was soft and Harry looked like a gentleman's son. Lucius nodded approvingly.

"That will do. Before you meet Draco, however, we must go over a few rules." Harry nodded and Lucius began to explain Harry's position in the household. Harry was above the house-elves, just barely, and was always to remember his inferior status. This didn't take much convincing as Harry, being a pauper child, already felt inferior to absolutely everybody. Lucius went on to explain the concept of personal property, as he was sure since Harry had never owned anything that would take some explaining. Harry managed to grasp the idea quickly enough, especially when he was told he would have his own bed in Draco's room, if Draco wanted it that is. He would dine separately and never speak unless spoken to. Harry was to be Draco's playmate. Lucius was confident the boys would get along, as long as Harry always remembered his place. He would of course never try to learn or do magic, as that was for wizards only, nor would he wander in the house or try to use some magical device. Harry nodded throughout the speech, remembering his vow about the workhouse and knowing that belonging to some boy couldn't possibly be worse than making shoes all day.

At least he hoped it wasn't.


	4. Malfoy Manor

This chapter was beta'ed by Hidden Lily so a big thank you to her. And thanks for all the nice reviews. I've been trying to answer a few, but things are hectic. Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 3: Malfoy Manor

"Draco?" Lucius opened the door to his son's room, gesturing for Harry to stay hidden outside as he stepped forward. Draco was sitting on his bed, several Quidditch figurines placed around him. He looked up from the one he was studying and a smile spread across his face when he saw his father.

"Father," he jumped off the bed and straightened his robes before coming forward. Lucius held up his hand to stop him. Draco frowned slightly.

"I have something for you … or rather someone. A new friend." Lucius opened the door fully and revealed the little six-year-old boy, the same age as Draco. Lucius put a hand on Harry shoulder and guided the shy boy into the room. Draco stared at him with a mix of fascination and confusion. "He's going to be living here with us, if you want." These words seemed to get through to Draco. He looked up at his father, a bit of hope entering his eyes. Draco had been dreadfully lonely lately.

"Really?" Lucius nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Draco, this is Harry. Harry, this is my son Draco. Go say hello." He gave the boy a little push and Harry stepped tentatively forward. The smile grew on Lucius' face as he watched his son study Harry as he had done before. The two boys stood facing each other; Harry looking down at his feet while Draco checked him over. With Harry's tousled black hair and Draco's slick platinum blond head the pair seemed like complete opposites. Indeed, they were opposites in every sense of the word, Lucius mused.

"But Father," Draco finally spoke, looking up at Lucius with a small frown. "Where did he come from?"

"A muggle workhouse. He is an orphan. Trust me, Draco, he is far better off here. Isn't that right, Harry?" The little boy didn't look up, but nodded rather vigorously.

"He's a muggle?" Draco asked, his gaze back to studying Harry again.

"Yes, and he's your new playmate." Draco suddenly stepped forward and pushed the hair out of Harry's forehead. Harry started at first, but didn't move away or try and stop Draco.

"Where did you get that scar? It looks weird." Draco asked, his fingers tracing the lightning bolt shape.

"Don't know," Harry practically whispered, his eyes not once glancing up at Draco. Lucius cleared his throat and Draco moved away from Harry.

"I'll leave you two alone now. Play nice, Draco," Lucius said before turning around and closing the door behind him. Draco bit his lip in thought, a habit his father always told him to stop.

"So, you're a muggle?" Harry nodded. "Do you know what a muggle is?" Again Harry nodded. "So, you don't know anything about anything then?" Harry nodded a third time. "Right," Draco said, turning around and walking over to his bed. He picked up one of the moving Quidditch figures before coming back to Harry. "This is going to take a lot of work," he said, sounding very much like his father. "If we're going to play together then you need to know stuff. Otherwise it's no fun," he explained matter-of-factly. He suddenly took Harry's hand and put the small figure in the little palm. Harry watched wide-eyed as the little figure marched back and forth, sometimes showing off his broom. "This is a Quidditch player. It's a sport and I love it. You'll like it too, I'm sure. I'm going to be a player just like him when I grow up."

Draco went on to explain the rules of the game, but Harry only caught every other word. He was soon led over to the bed and told to sit down on it. Harry couldn't help but stroke the soft fabric beneath him with something akin to awe. Draco would hold up one figure after the other and explain the player's position, team and record. Harry finally started to get interested when he realised Draco was taking about people flying. Draco was only too happy to have someone to talk to, or lecture to. He very much enjoyed Harry's fascinated stare and delighted in telling him what to do when they started playing.

Later, Draco tried explaining Exploding Snap to Harry, something Draco himself had only played once at one of the few birthday parties he had attended. This was a little more difficult, and Harry became terribly afraid of the explosions. Draco decided to give it up after a while. They had plenty of other things to do, and Draco couldn't wait to show Harry all the stuff he had. Harry was generally slack-jawed through the whole day and Draco showed him one possession after another. He didn't dare touch or say anything without a direct command and yet it was still the best day of Harry's life, especially when they went outside into the garden. Draco showed him the magical plants and only teased Harry a little when he convinced the muggle boy to eat a hiccupping hurtleberry. Draco found the plant that would counteract the effects quickly enough. Even at six Draco loved the effects a few simple plants could do.

When the sun went down Draco suddenly realised he hadn't eaten because he had been so excited about his new muggle. They went inside and saw Lucius sitting in the drawing room, reading over a muggle pamphlet on English workhouses. He looked up when the boys came in and found himself smiling. He had rarely seen his son look so smug and happy as the little boy began explaining all the things he had taught Harry how to do. The muggle boy stood a little distance away, looking down and waiting to be called forth. Draco started laughing when he told how Harry had jumped three feet in the air when they had encountered a garden gnome. Finally Draco finished his tale and flopped very tiredly and un-Malfoy-like onto the couch beside his father. Lucius couldn't find it in himself to scold his son though; his plan had worked out too perfectly and he was feeling rather smug himself.

"Well, I must say you have had quite the day. And you haven't eaten supper," Lucius commented. Draco suddenly remembered his hunger and nodded. "Well, a light meal and bed I think is in order."

"Where is Harry sleeping?" Draco asked, rising from the couch as Lucius did.

"In your room if you wish," Lucius answered, making his way out of the drawing room and towards the stairs, the two boys following close behind.

"Really?" Draco asked hopefully. Lucius chuckled. They entered Draco's room and Lucius quickly conjured up a small bed for Harry in the corner of the room. It wasn't anywhere near as grand as Draco's gigantic four-poster bed, but Harry could have sworn it was made of clouds it was so soft compared to the old bed at the workhouse. Lucius ordered a house-elf to bring them some supper to be eaten in the child-size seating arrangement by the fire. He didn't even remember Harry wasn't supposed to eat with his son. He just couldn't stop smiling as he saw how happy Draco looked to have someone his own age around for once. He really had been too hard on the boy lately, Lucius mused as he bade the two good night. As he closed the door he noted the look of awe and pure hunger as Harry took in the food the house-elves brought. He paused.

"Now, Harry, I don't think you should eat a lot. Your stomach can't handle too much just yet." Harry started at being addressed so suddenly, but quickly nodded and sat down as Draco instructed him to. Lucius left the two boys and went downstairs again to finish reading his pamphlet.

When they had eaten and Draco had shown Harry how to get ready for bed properly, the two went to their respective beds. Harry lay down quietly, but couldn't sleep for a long time. When had a day been more strange and awe-inspiring than today? So much had happened Harry was sure he would wake up in the workhouse if he dared to fall asleep. But fall asleep he did, and he woke up in the same soft place, with a grinning Draco standing over him and telling him what they were going to do that day.

xxx

Dumbledore walked up the overgrown path away from the ruins. No one had been there for five years, except him. He was moving towards the farm down the road. He was there because he had missed something the first time around, something important. Voldemort had killed Lily and James; he was sure of that. But the child was still missing, and Dumbledore simply refused to believe it had simply disappeared or been eaten by some animal. He was there to speak to the muggle neighbours. Dumbledore had been looking through the ruins once again and discovered some letters that spoke of the muggles down the road. They lived too far away to have seen anything, but maybe they had seen someone come down the road with a child. One thing was clear: they were closer to the Potters than Dumbledore had first presumed, but how close? Enough to investigate if they heard something?

He found the small farm and went straight up to the front door. He knocked firmly.

"Who's there?" a man called from inside.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I was wondering if you knew what happened to the house up the road?" The man opened the door. He was a worn-looking chap, clearly a hard working farmer. He was frowning and shook his head sadly.

"It was destroyed about five years ago. Don't know what happened."

"What about the people who lived there?"

"Dead as far as I know, except for the child." Dumbledore's eyes widened, a hope firing up in them.

"The child?" he pressed. The man shrugged.

"We found it and delivered it to the House."

"The House?"

"The Union Workhouse. It's about half a mile to the east of town. You can't miss it." Dumbledore thanked the man and hurried down the road towards the town. Once outside the line of sight of the farm he disappeared with a pop. The child was alive, or at least it had survived that dreadful night, but how? New questions came up to replace the old ones.

Arriving at the workhouse Dumbledore was shown inside the children's ward. Had he been there a few months ago he would not have recognized the place now. The ward was cleaner than ever, and the children not only had the bare essentials, but even a few toys. Local women visited them and were allowed to read to them, as well as offer them clothes other than the workhouse uniforms. The children also attended the local school instead of the pauper school inside the workhouse. Dumbledore still found the establishment a poor place for a child to grow up. When he questioned the master he was informed that there was no record of any Potter orphan. With the help of a little magic, however, the wizard managed to convince the man to allow him to see the records. Harry Patton was admitted that very night, but to Dumbledore's dismay the child had been taken away only a few months ago. A Lord Mayhew had taken him.

"Mayhew?" Dumbledore mused aloud. There was no other information, not even a place of residence. "Damn." He was closer to figuring out everything than ever before, but he still had a long way to go.

xxx

Harry and Draco soon became inseparable. There was never any doubt that Harry was below Draco. The little Malfoy was always leading the way and telling Harry what to do, but Harry didn't mind. He was treated well and he was having fun for the first time in his life. Draco didn't mind either. To him it was simply how the world worked. Lucius didn't have any cause to complain and could now leave for days on business without worrying that his son would be lonely. He started to work more actively in politics again, and had even been working, though very secretly, in muggle politics. He could hardly even admit it to himself, but Lucius was the reason Harry's old workhouse had been improved.

One night Lucius was just pulling the covers aside to get into bed when the door to his bedroom opened and Draco came running across the floor. This was a highly unusual sight and Lucius knew something had to be very wrong.

"What is it, Draco?" Lucius asked with a father's concern. He knelt down as Draco came towards him. The little boy looked very worried.

"Father, it's Harry. He won't stop crying," he said, sounding very close to tears himself.

"Do you know why he is crying?" Lucius asked, placing his hands gently on Draco's shoulders.

"He woke me up. He was screaming," Draco told his father with a trembling voice. Lucius decided there was nothing to do except go and see what was the matter. He rose and walked briskly out of his bedroom and down the hall to Draco's, the little boy following at a run. When he entered the room Lucius saw Harry on his small bed, his head buried in his pillow and his whole body shaking with sobs he was obviously trying desperately to suppress. Lucius went and sat down on the bed and placed a hand on the boy's back. Harry stiffened immediately and his sobs died in his throat.

"Harry? Did you have a nightmare?" Lucius asked. He saw the boy nod into his pillow and sighed in relief. The boy wasn't unhappy at the Manor - at least this was the first time he had cried as far as Lucius knew. Lucius could deal with a nightmare. Even a sheltered boy like Draco had them on occasion. Lucius put his hands around Harry's waist and pulled the boy up to a seating position. Harry was trying to hide his tears and didn't dare look at Lucius, for fear of being reprimanded. "Harry, there's nothing wrong about crying a little when you've had a bad dream," Lucius informed him. "Now, why don't you tell me all about it?" Harry looked very unsure, but couldn't seem to disobey what he saw as an order. So he told how he had relived one of his beatings. Well, he told most of it, but he left a few things out…

Flashback -

"You, boy!" the schoolmaster barked at Harry. He was younger than the sailor had been, but always bitter as he saw himself as an educated man who had been condemned to take the post of a workhouse schoolmaster. He had a stick as well, the same one perhaps that the last teacher had had. Harry flinched as the man came towards him. "Read, now," the man ordered and thrust the book down into Harry's lap. Harry picked it up gingerly and tried to clear his dry throat. There was total silence and discipline in the room. Harry knew he would pronounce something wrong. He wasn't very good at reading. None of the boys were. The teacher blamed their pauper nature and their unwillingness to learn anything. He refused to teach them to write, as he didn't think a pauper needed it, and they didn't have the supplies for writing. Harry looked down at the page and swallowed. It was something religious, that he was sure of, but the words just seemed to float together. He opened his mouth, but no sound was forthcoming. "Get on with it!" the man barked, causing Harry to flinch again. Why did he always need to be so loud with Harry? The other boys watched on, some of them gleefully awaiting Harry's next blunder. Surely the schoolmaster would be too tired to torture them if he had his round with Harry first? Harry swallowed again and began to read a few words. They sounded correct to him. It was about Jesus, Harry realised.

"Wrong!" the schoolmaster yelled suddenly and Harry dropped the book. "Stupid boy! Can't you learn a thing?" The man raised his stick and hit Harry hard across the back. Harry tried to shy away, but the man grabbed his shirt and pulled him away from the bench. He walked up to the front of the classroom, dragging Harry after him. He ordered Harry to stand in front of the class. "Bend forward!" He ordered and Harry obeyed. His eyes were shut and his jaw clenched. He never cried when they hit him. It didn't do any good. The schoolmaster started hitting Harry repeatedly on his back until Harry felt blood stain his shirt.

"Stupid boy! Your parents were no doubt stupid as well. Paupers, the lot of them!" the schoolmaster declared. Something flared inside Harry. He felt his anger boiling like it had with the old schoolmaster and it was like a light went on inside him. The man was oblivious to this change, but the other boys seemed to feel it in the air and shuffled away from the pair at the front of the room. Suddenly there was a quick scraping sound and then a cry of pain. Harry turned immediately and saw that the desk had somehow moved forward with great speed and rammed into the teacher. The man was lying of the floor, but he quickly regained his senses and rose. He glared at Harry.

"You!" he cried, enraged. "You did it!" Suddenly one of the windows burst and the glass scattered across the floor, luckily the other children were too far away to be hit. The schoolmaster stared fearfully at the broken window, then at Harry. The boy stared defiantly back and this seemed to enrage the man further. He grabbed Harry by his shirt and dragged him out of the classroom. Harry was barely able to keep from falling as the man practically ran to the master's office. Once inside the teacher roughly threw Harry to the floor.

"What is the meaning of this?" the master demanded to know as he rose from behind his desk.

"This boy did bodily hard to my person and then proceeded to destroy a window!" the schoolmaster exclaimed angrily.

"How did he hurt you? And how did he destroy the window?" the master asked, looking down doubtfully at the thin little boy on the floor.

"He pushed the desk into me and then smashed the window!" the teacher declared. "He must be punished properly or he will never learn!" The master sighed. Why was it always this boy who caused so much trouble? Even when the other boys did something Harry usually took the blame, or did something to shift suspicion to himself. The master agreed that a punishment was needed. Harry denied having done anything, to which the schoolmaster declared he must be punished for lying as well, and he was.

End flashback -

Harry told Lucius his nightmare, but he left out the part about the desk moving and the window. If it really had been some sort of magic then Harry didn't want to risk being punished for using it. He was a muggle and not supposed to have anything to do with magic. Lucius listened patiently until Harry was finished.

"Now, Harry, you don't have to worry about being punished like that anymore. You will not be struck by anyone again. Do you understand?" Harry nodded weakly. Lucius didn't believe in hitting a child. Some people may have pegged him for a father who disciplined his son physically. It was completely common even in the wizarding world, but Lucius spoiled Draco rotten and never hit him, nor could he think of hitting Harry. That wasn't the way to win a child's obedience.

"I told Harry about my tutor coming next week," Draco said, breaking the silence. Lucius looked at his son standing beside Harry's bed. Draco was obviously worried he had caused Harry to have the nightmare.

"Harry won't be tutored alongside you, Draco…"

"I told him that." Lucius didn't hear Draco. He was contemplating something. Judging by Harry's tale the boy could barely even read. It would be unfair if Lucius kept Harry and then when Draco grew up just threw him back into the muggle world without any knowledge. Some basic training would be needed. While thinking about how best to go about Harry's education he was unconsciously hugging Harry, giving him some comfort as Harry finally settled down after the nightmare. With a plan firmly in mind Lucius bid Harry good night and then tucked Draco back in bed before leaving to retire himself.


	5. Settling in

Thanks for all the nice reviews. My writer's block is still bothering me, but the reviews are certainly helping :)

Big thanks to my beta Hidden Lily.

Chapter 4: Settling In

The next day brought about the changes Lucius had planned the night before. Harry was to be educated by a muggle tutor when Draco was with one of his teachers. Lucius, of course, hired the man in a very discrete way and used his muggle name and title to ensure that nothing would leak out about a Malfoy hiring a muggle. Then again if they found out why he was letting the muggle into in his home it would be much worse, but luckily everything went smoothly once Harry got use to the idea of not being punished for answering a question wrong.

Harry would learn to read and write properly. He would also gain knowledge about other subjects as he progressed. Lucius wasn't sure how long Harry would be keeping Draco company, surely until Hogwarts at least, and maybe even longer, but there would come a time when Harry would not be needed, and Lucius recognized the absurdity of saving Harry from a miserable life as a workhouse orphan only to thrust him back out years later. Of course Lucius, clever man that he was, didn't stop to analyse the reasons behind his feelings of responsibility towards Harry that had somehow appeared. One day Lucius found himself looking in at Harry during one of the boy's lessons and smiled at Harry's eager, though always cautious, questions, and he reasoned that he was making sure Harry would be a proper playmate for his son. It wouldn't do if Draco grew up while having a playmate dumber than even the average muggle.

Harry learnt a little about wizarding customs too, so he would know how to act and what items to stay away from. He had continued to dine with Lucius and his son since the first night with Draco. He never said anything during meals, but it was the best place to learn about the wizards he belonged to. When they played Harry quickly learned when to follow and when to just watch. Harry secretly loved it when Draco flew, but whenever he started wishing that he was up in the air he reminded himself where he would be if not for the Malfoys, and stayed content on the ground.

Time passed and soon it was nearing Harry's first Christmas outside the workhouse. He wasn't sure what to expect, he didn't even know if wizards celebrated Christmas, but soon Draco was pestering his father almost every day to tell him what he would be getting. Lucius merely smirked at his son and shook his head without a word.

One morning Harry awoke to Draco jumping on his bed.

"Harry, wake up! Wake up! Look outside! There's snow everywhere!" Harry dutifully got up and Draco practically pushed him over to the window. Harry looked out and saw that indeed the grounds were completely covered in a white blanket. Harry suddenly shivered, his mind going back to the many very cold nights in the workhouse. Draco didn't seem to notice, though, as he was staring gleefully out the window. "Come on! Let's get dressed and go outside before breakfast!" He quickly summoned a house-elf and began demanding the proper attire. Harry went to the small dresser that had been put beside his bed for his clothes and took out some warm looking muggle clothing. He did not like the idea of being cold. Most of his time in the workhouse had been spent being either way too cold in winter or awfully hot during summer. When they were both dressed Draco took Harry's hand, as was his wont, and dragged Harry outside. When they came out into the garden Draco let go and ran across the snow-covered lawn. Harry stood looking slightly doubtful as Draco began picking up snow. Harry had never played in the snow before and was a bit unsure how things worked. Suddenly Harry's thoughts were cut short as his face was covered in cold, wet snow.

"A direct hit!" Draco cried triumphantly and laughed. Harry started brushing the snow off his face and winced as some of if fell down beneath his collar. "Come on, Harry!" Draco was already gathering snow for another ball. Harry frowned; again he was unsure what exactly Draco wanted him to do. Hopefully, Draco would tell him like he always did. Before Draco did that, however, he threw another direct hit. Harry ducked away automatically, his natural quick reflexes after years of dodging blows at the workhouse. He winced when he realised maybe Draco just wanted to hit Harry with snow and that he shouldn't have moved at all.

"Oh, come on, Harry! Don't just stand there! You're suppose to make sure I have fun, right?" Harry could only nod, still confused. "Well, then start playing!" Draco declared, his hands at his hips, one holding a new snowball. He looked at Harry expectantly. Suddenly his eyebrows furrowed. "Haven't you ever had a snowball fight before? I've seen muggle children have them!" Harry shook his head. Draco huffed. Just one more thing he would have to explain before they could start having fun. It was a lot of work teaching Harry, but then again the fun they had was more than enough compensation, Draco admitted to himself.

"Just make a ball and try and hit me with it!" The idea seemed simple enough, but Harry couldn't quite bring himself to try and hit Draco with anything. Wouldn't it get him into trouble? With enough prodding from Draco Harry eventually threw a snowball. Draco dodged it easily enough as it hadn't been a very good try. "Ha! You throw like a girl! Bet you can't hit me!" he declared and then turned and ran. "Bet you can't catch me!" Draco yelled over his shoulder. Harry started running after Draco, and after awhile his attempts to catch Draco became more sincere.

Harry was having his first happy day getting wet and cold, just like normal boys should do from time to time. Draco didn't seem to mind at all that Harry was the one doing the chasing. When Harry finally hit Draco with a snowball, right in the chest, Harry got a little nervous, but he smiled in relief when Draco laughed and took off again.

Draco was having the time of his life too. He rarely even thought about Harry being a muggle. It was just too great to have someone his own age to have fun with. He could let everything out and just be a kid when he was with Harry, because Harry didn't know any better and didn't know how Malfoy heirs were suppose to act. Draco knew his father loved him, but the man could be very difficult when it came to proper behaviour with other wizards. He spoiled Draco, this was true, but he also never hesitated to lecture Draco on how a Malfoy should behave in public.

Exhausted, they collapsed in a heap of snow and laughed breathlessly for a few moments. There was a mischievous look in Draco's eye and he gathered snow without Harry noticing. Suddenly his hand came up and hit Harry squarely in the face. Draco snickered, not bothering to move from his position next to Harry as the boy sputtered and brushed the snow off. Harry, also not bothering to get up, just looked over at Draco, the same glint in his eyes now. Draco noted he quite liked the look of mischief in Harry's eyes, as he had never seen it before. Suddenly, Draco let out a yelp as a ball of snow hit him in the face. He hadn't even noticed Harry gathering it.

"Gotcha!" Harry declared when he heard Draco laughing and he was sure it was ok.

"Yes, you certainly did," a voice drawled. Draco and Harry, the former still covered in quite a bit of snow, looked up and saw Lucius standing over them. Harry quickly scrambled to his feet and looked down in a guilty manner. Now he would surely be in trouble.

"Good morning, Father," Draco said, standing up and brushing off the snow on his robes.

"Good morning, son, Harry… you don't need to look so scared, Harry. I am not going to reprimand you for playing with my son. That is why you are here," Lucius said, looking thoughtfully down at Harry. "Look at me," he commanded. Harry was loathed to look either Malfoy in the eye, but couldn't disobey and slowly raised his gaze. Lucius' face was an expressionless mask. "You won't be punished for following the rules of the game my son dictates. If he wants a snowball in the face, then so be it." Draco smirked, able to recognize his father's dry humour that sometimes made a rare appearance. This time was certainly different, though, with Lucius making a joke not only in Harry presence, but also at Draco's expense. Malfoy senior couldn't help himself. The vibrant young boys were having so much fun their mood was contagious.

"He won't get me again, I assure you Father. It was a lucky shot. When I get my wand his days are numbered," Draco declared. His father shook his head in amusement. He didn't expect his son, destined for Slytherin come his eleventh year, to fight fair. Of course most wizarding children got their wands early, and Draco would no doubt too, when he had earned it by studying hard with his tutors. Harry seemed to be getting over his nervousness when he slowly realised he wasn't in trouble.

"Really? So you are unable to beat the muggle at his own level?" Lucius answered in a drawl. Harry watched the exchange with fascination. He didn't realise they were technically insulting him. To him, Lucius statement about "his level" was completely true; he wasn't a wizard and so below them in every sense. Draco was at a loss for words as his father smirked evilly at him. He stretched himself to his full height and puffed out his chest.

"I can beat him any time, any place and any way," Draco stated matter-of-factly. Lucius decided that was enough goading for one day.

"All right, but right now let's get you two inside. You're soaked and breakfast is ready." They all filed into the Manor, Harry last and feeling very happy that he had yet to be in any sort of trouble with his wizards.

xxx

Christmas passed in a daze for Harry. The decorations and food were enough to make him gape for hours. It had taken him months to get used to the big house, but with the festive season making it look spectacular Harry was speechless most of the time, not that he said much of anything anyway. Draco felt a sense of pride whenever he could inform Harry of some ancient Malfoy tradition.

Lucius had debated long with himself whether to get Harry a present or not. Technically, he was the boy's foster-parent and so should give him something. In the end it was circumstances that solved the problem. Lucius was walking down a cobbled street in London, preferring to walk from business at the Ministry to business in the muggle world as wizards rarely walked the muggle streets, and therefore Lucius could walk and think without anyone recognizing and following, thereby finding out about his other political activities.

Passing by a store he happened to glance in and saw a collection of muggle dolls. Being a wizard he wasn't aware that usually only girls played with dolls in the muggle world. But Lucius figured that if Draco had his Quidditch players wouldn't Harry like something similar? He obviously couldn't give the boy something magical, but a muggle toy he could buy, surely? He went inside and spoke to the doll-maker about making a special doll. It would be small, much smaller than the dolls in the window. Lucius described the sort of robes he wanted on it and that it would need to have green eyes. He told the muggle to make the hair blond and that it should be a boy-doll with short hair. Lucius wasn't really conscious about his choice and left the shop after paying the man handsomely in advance.

At Christmas Draco had a mountain of presents. He pinned one of the many bows from one to Harry's shirt and the boy beamed at Draco. When Harry suddenly received his own first gift he treasured the doll as if it was the most prized jewel in all the world. It was his only real possession, as far as Harry was concerned, and he would bring it with him wherever he went. Whenever he doubted that he wasn't completely content with his situation he would take it out and remember what Malfoy had saved him from.

xxx

Time passed and spring arrived. Harry became more confident in his studies and with Draco. Now that they knew each other better Harry dared to anticipate what Draco wanted and did things without being asked, something Draco was actually a bit grateful for. Lucius was feeling more relaxed than he had been in years, knowing that Draco was happy.

The relationship between Draco and Harry made them close, though they couldn't really be described as brothers because Harry wasn't Draco's equal. Harry was always subdued compared to Draco, but there was a fire that still lurked beneath the surface, something Draco only saw rarely and at first didn't really think about much. Like when Draco prodded a hurt bird they had found in the garden. Draco wanted to know if it was magical in any way, but Harry had raised his voice for the first time since his arrival at Malfoy Manor and demanded Draco release the bird. Draco had been startled by the sudden exclamation, but quickly shrugged it off. It was only a stupid muggle bird, why should he care? It wouldn't be the last time Harry stood up when he knew Draco was being unfair, and without realising it Draco started to listen to Harry on those rare occasions. It was as if Draco let Harry have his way in those rare moments as compensation for his total obedience in everything else, at least that was how Draco would justify it years later when he was older and began to analyze things. In reality he might just care about what Harry thought of him, but that realisation was many years off.

xxx

It wasn't until the first of August that Harry had another one of the firsts in his life: a birthday.

"My birthday?" Harry asked at the breakfast table. Lucius nodded while Draco grinned. The young Malfoy's birthday had been months ago, but he wanted Harry to have one too. Even muggles had birthdays, he reasoned. And it was a perfect excuse for Draco to have lots of cake and the day off from studying.

"I am afraid I do not know if today is your actual birthday, Harry. I checked the records at the workhouse, but you were found by a local farmer, so the date of your birth is not on record. That is why I chose today. It will be your birthday as well as a celebration of the fun you have brought into Draco's life," Lucius said, _'and the peace and quiet you have brought into mine,_' he added mentally. Harry blinked.

Harry received one gift from Lucius and Draco pinned the bow to Harry's chest just like at Christmas. It would become a tradition. The present was a muggle children's book, which Harry would read countless times until it literally fell apart. They also ate cake and Draco even let Harry win at one of their games. All in all it was the best day of Harry's young life, and he secretly felt more at home than ever before. The grandness of Malfoy Manor didn't seem quite so intimidating than it had that first day, and being Draco's muggle was ten million times better than life at the workhouse had been.


	6. The Hogwarts Letter

Life is getting really, really swamped lately, so this is WAY too late. Maybe if I just sit down and force myself to write something I can get out of this hole I seem to have fallen into. But right now I'm so dead tired every day when I get home from Uni that I just want to crawl into bed, sleep six hours and do it all over again.

Big thank you to everyone who read, reviewed or favourited. You guys rock! I'm always surprised when people actually like these weird ideas I don't think anybody else will bother to read.

Also a super thank you to Hidden Lily.

_Chapter 5: The Hogwarts Letter_

As the years passed Draco and Harry grew, and grew even closer. Draco excelled in his studies and Harry in his, but when they were finished with their work they would always find each other quickly. Since Harry was eating proper healthy food he wasn't horribly skinny anymore and was, in fact, slightly taller than Draco, but he made up for it by always keeping his head low. He never forgot his place. He was happy, though his nightmares never let him forget his past either.

The three of them were eating breakfast one summer morning during the boy's eleventh year when Lucius looked out one of the tall windows and grinned.

"I have a feeling that is a Hogwarts owl," he said conversationally. Draco's reaction was immediate. He almost stood in his chair to spot the owl until Lucius put a hand on his shoulder to make him sit properly. Draco couldn't stop shaking with excitement, however, as they watched the owl near the Manor. Harry was watching too, having known about Draco's letter coming all summer. He secretly dreaded it because he was unsure what would happen to him once Draco was gone. The owl swooped in through the window, which opened magically whenever an owl approached, and landed on the back of the empty chair to Lucius' right. The Lord of the Manor gracefully took the letters from the owl, concentrating on the one for Draco. The other letter was no doubt something from the Board of Governors or possibly the old Headmaster. Lucius handed the letter to Draco with a proud smile.

"It is tradition that you open it yourself, Draco," he said. Draco took the letter, a bit of awe in his eyes, and opened it quickly. He read it over, the grin on his face growing wider every second.

"I can't wait!" Draco exclaimed and grinned up at his father. Lucius smiled and nodded in understanding. He could still remember his own excitement. Suddenly Draco frowned and glanced at Harry before looking at his father. "Harry's going to be here when I get back, right?" he asked, a little worry showing in his voice. Harry became nervous and kept his eyes on his plate.

"Of course. He is staying as long as you want him to, though it might be a little lonely for him without you."

"You don't mind, do you Harry?" Draco asked, turning to face the boy. Harry shook his head frantically.

"I want to stay," he said quietly and Draco beamed.

"Good. Then I'll be home at Christmas." Harry gave Draco a small smile of gratitude. Lucius had turned to the other letter and his eyes flared with something Draco had never seen before – complete and utter shock.

"This can't be! Impossible...." he muttered angrily to himself. Draco and Harry stared at him, one confused, one nervous.

"What is it, Father?" Draco asked carefully. Lucius didn't seem to hear him. He took his knife and cut the letter open, ripping the envelope anyway when he pulled out the parchment. His eyes danced frantically over the page as if hoping the words would change.

"This can't be," he repeated, sounding more dazed than angry now. "Stay here, Draco. Don't move. I need to …" he said absentmindedly as he rose, his eyes never leaving the letter. He moved swiftly to the fireplace at the other end of the long table, lighting it with a flick of his wand, and took some Floo powder from the box on the mantle. A moment later and he was gone in a puff of green flames.

"Out. Now!" he ordered to the many paintings of old Headmasters as he gracefully stepped out of the fireplace in Dumbledore's office. The current Headmaster was sitting behind his desk, drinking tea and reading the paper. He looked up when Lucius entered and gave an almost imperceptible nod to the paintings. The old Headmasters filed out without a word. Lucius stood before the desk glaring at the Headmaster with cold fury. He thrust the slightly crumpled letter at Dumbledore. "What is the meaning of this!" he demanded. Dumbledore smiled at him, a slight twinkle in his eyes, and took the letter slowly.

"I believe congratulations are in order. But you already knew Draco would be accepted of course," Dumbledore said kindly. His eyes scanned the letter, the twinkle growing.

"I'm not talking about Draco!" Lucius spat. "I'm talking about Harry!"

"Harry, you say?" Dumbledore asked with a raised eyebrow. He went back to re-read the letter as if he hadn't realised that the first time. Lucius was livid by now.

"How did you know? I didn't even know he had any magic, so how on earth did he get on that list?" he hissed. He laid his hands flat on Dumbledore's desk and leaned forward. "I checked them myself! His name was not on it! How did you know he was even at the Manor?"

"I believe he was added to the lists at the last moment," Dumbledore stated, completely un-intimidated by Lucius' wrath. "I always wondered why you go over the lists, Mr. Malfoy. Do you really check the number of muggle-borns every year?" Lucius' eyes flared dangerously.

"Don't try to change the subject! How did you know there was a muggle living with us?" Dumbledore chuckled. Actually chuckled!

"I am sure his magical presence was simply registered by the Ministry. And I believe the term you are looking for is muggle-_born_." Dumbledore was studying Lucius carefully for his reactions to everything, even though the twinkle never left his eyes. Lucius narrowed his eyes at the Headmaster. Surely the wards would have prevented Harry's detection? Why had Dumbledore gone to such lengths for a common muggle?

"You conniving old bastard!" he shouted. Dumbledore seemed to relax even more at the outburst.

"So, are you going to let him attend?" he asked conversationally. Lucius was fuming, his breathing heavy and his face red.

"And _what_ are you going to do if I refuse?" he spat. "Go to the press? That is what you've been planning with this isn't it? Make me out to be some hypocrite and destroy my reputation!" Dumbledore merely smiled.

"I assure you my only concern is Harry's education," he said simply. "If you refuse to let Harry realise his potential then you leave me no choice but to inform the public of your _foster-child._" Lucius was ready to burst at this point. The old man was out for his reputation and he was using a muggle boy to get his way! Lucius couldn't win! If he refused and Dumbledore told the world he was living with a muggle-born he denied a proper education Lucius would lose every shred of credibility. If he let Harry attend Hogwarts it would go against everything he believed and his reputation would be ruined then too if anyone found out! Suddenly something clicked inside Lucius' mind. A Slytherin always found a way out of sticky situations. Right now he was between a rock and a hard place, but he could still slither out. A smirk spread across his face as he righted himself and stood looming over Dumbledore. The twinkle faltered for a moment.

"Harry will attend Hogwarts," he said, his voice calm and his face going back to its normal pale colour. "You will not make me lose face." Lucius paused. Did he really want to do this? He sternly reminded himself that if he didn't the consequences would be far worse. "But he will be enrolled as Harry _Malfoy._ You will ensure no one knows his real name. You will help convince people he is Draco's twin. He has been living with his mother since You Know Who's downfall." Lucius paused again and leaned forward, his eyes glinting dangerously. "If you do not I will spend the rest of my _life_ making sure you will never set foot inside this school again." Dumbledore didn't look scared, but the twinkle was gone and his eyes were searching for something in Lucius'. He had certainly not expected Lucius' decision. Finally he nodded.

"Very well. When the time comes to be sorted Harry Patton will be called forth a Malfoy." Lucius smirked.

"I am glad we could come to an agreement." Lucius turned to leave, but Dumbledore spoke up and caused him to stop short.

"Why did you take him in? Do you know where he comes from?" Lucius turned back fully and narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore.

"That is none of your concern, for as you stated earlier, your only concern is Harry's education, which I am granting." His voice was low, indicating the Headmaster had absolutely no chance of getting any answers. Lucius walked briskly to the fireplace, robes billowing, and returned to Malfoy Manor. Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his hands coming together to form a church steeple. He heard the paintings return.

"So, how did it go?" One of the old Headmasters asked. Dumbledore gazed thoughtfully at his desk.

"I am not sure. It did not go as planned," he said. "I expected him to do one of two things depending on what he knows. Either he throws Harry out to try and deny everything because he doesn't know and thinks he is just a muggle, well rather muggle-born, or… Or simply escape with Harry. If he truly knows who Harry is then surely he would not want the boy to be educated a wizard? Then again, if he knew from the start why isn't the boy dead?" The portrait nodded knowingly, keeping silent and allowing Dumbledore to think aloud. "I never expected this. He must not know. He thinks I am doing it to destroy him. Still… his influence over the boy could prove disastrous. At least here he is away for most of the year." Dumbledore sighed. "There is nothing more I can do at the moment. I am just glad I tracked the boy down before he reached eleven years of age."

XXX

Lucius came back through the fire, dusting his robes off and looking slightly green, though that could have been from the flames. The two boys, still sitting at the table, looked up expectantly at him. Lucius stopped short and stared at them. What had he done? This went against everything he believed in. The Malfoy name was everything. And now a muggle-born-? No. Lucius didn't know who the boy's parents were. A desperate part of his mind reached out to grab at this new hope. There was no guarantee that they were muggles. He could have been lost by wizards. Ridiculous, Lucius knew this, and now he was letting the boy use his name ... but let's not forget: if Harry didn't bear the name there would hardly be a name worth bearing anyway. Lucius had never even suspected Harry had any magic, yet if he was on the lists... Not even Dumbledore would put a muggle on the lists.

"Draco … Harry," Lucius said, finally coming towards them. He took out his wand and turned the chairs they were sitting so they faced him. Lucius stood before them, looking at Harry in particular. The boy was shifting nervously in his chair under the scrutiny. "I have news," he said and then swallowed. He took a steadying breath.

"What is it, Father?" Draco asked, looking worried. Lucius suddenly came forward and knelt in front of the two boys. Draco frowned in confusion.

"It seems there were two Hogwarts letters destined for this house today," Lucius said. He looked at Harry. The boy stared back with wide uncomprehending green eyes. He looked utterly innocent and afraid. Lucius sighed. "You're a wizard after all Harry," he said defeated. Harry didn't seem to have any reaction, but Draco gasped and stared wide-eyed at his father. "The second letter was for you." Lucius suddenly remembered he had left it with Dumbledore and wished he hadn't, but it didn't really matter. He knew what it said by heart. A small part of him, though, wished he had it anyway.

"Is he …" Draco trailed off, unsure whether to be pleased or not.

"He is going to Hogwarts with you," Lucius answered, his eyes not leaving Harry. Draco grinned. He would have Harry with him at Hogwarts! Suddenly another thought struck Draco.

"But he's a …" again he trailed off.

"We do not know who his parents were," Lucius said, hoping this would be enough for Draco even though it wasn't nearly enough for him. Draco nodded slowly, the grin slowly coming back.

"But I can't be a wizard," Harry said suddenly, both Malfoy's attention turned to him. "I'm a muggle. I'm just a muggle." Lucius sighed.

"We do not know that for sure." He snorted inwardly as he calculated the chances of a pureblood son ending up in a muggle workhouse. "Your name has been added to the list. You are a wizard … which brings me to another point." Lucius paused and took another deep breath. "You will need to change your name. No one must know you lived here as a muggle. You will say you are Draco's twin and you will be called Harry Malfoy." Draco was gaping at his father, while Harry just stared wide-eyed.

"Father-"

"It is the only way, Draco," Lucius said, his voice making it clear that the decision was not to be discussed further. "Don't you want a brother?" he said, gazing at Draco curiously. Draco was unsure how to react to this kind of news, but with his father's obvious conviction Draco grinned and turned to Harry.

"We'll be at Hogwarts together!" he exclaimed. "Now, we can do _everything_ together!" Lucius smiled, glad his son could get over the situation better than he could. Harry looked a bit dazed, but after Lucius went over the details of his story Harry nodded and said he understood. He was to have a crash-course in wizard customs, though Harry already knew quite a lot, and Lucius would be taking him to Diagon Alley with Draco to get all the supplies on his birthday as a special treat. Draco was beaming by the end as he started telling Harry all the new things he would have to show him. Harry still looked nervous, but he resigned himself to the fact that he would be with Draco at least, even though the big castle sounded a bit scary.


	7. A Pureblood Slytherin

Hello all. Thanks for your nice comments and reviews. I just got this in before I'm off for some skiing! Yay! :D

Big thanks to Hidden Lily for the beta.

_Chapter 6: A Pureblood Slytherin _

Harry held tight to Master Lucius' hand, feeling that if he let go he would drown. Draco was bouncing along happily in front of them, pointing to all the things he wanted for Hogwarts. Lucius was indulgent, up to a point, and soon Draco's mouth was set in a pout, having been refused a broom.

'Ah, and now it's Harry's turn,' Lucius murmured. Draco followed the man's gaze and saw they were outside the wand shop.

'I can't believe Harry's getting a wand,' Draco said, bouncing again. 'I'm going to have to teach him _so much_,' he sighed dramatically, but Lucius just shook his head in exasperation, knowing Draco would love nothing more than to keep bossing Harry around all day. 'Is he really allowed?'

'Yes, Draco, we've been through this,' Lucius said as he pushed opened the door. 'Apparently, Harry has magic, he has just never exhibited any of the signs.' Harry kept his eyes to the floor, his cheeks flooding with shame, knowing he had kept important information from the man who had paid for him, who had freed him from that horrid place, but he couldn't bring himself to say a word about it.

'Welcome,' a voice said jovially and Harry peaked a glance through his fringe. A very old man was smiling kindly at him. 'And who is this?'

'This is Harry,' Lucius explained, without going into further detail.

'I see....' Harry didn't like the twinkling eyes. 'Well, if you'll just step forward and I'll take some measurements.' Lucius let go of his hand and pushed him forward. Harry stood completely still at the tape measure zoomed around him.

'Here, try this one.' Harry hesitated. He had been told never to touch anything magical. 'Well, go on.' The man held out the wand. He had seen Draco perform magic with his wand and it had looked very fun, but Harry knew he shouldn't. He glanced over his shoulder.

'Go on, Harry,' Lucius encouraged and Harry swallowed. He reached out and took the wand. Nothing happened.

'Give it a wave,' the man prompted. Harry waved it like he had seen Draco do, but again nothing happened. That was it – he wasn't magical after all. He almost sighed in relief, but then he realised he wouldn't be going with Draco to Hogwarts.

'Let's see, how about this one.' Suddenly, Harry was holding another wand, and another. Neither of them made any difference. The third wand, however, gave off a red spark that made Harry jump in shock. Draco made an excited noise at the back of his throat, but Lucius hushed him.

'Not quite,' the man said and took the wand from Harry, who was still dazed. Had that really been him?

After another five wands Harry had given up hope of producing another spark, but then the man handed him a wand that felt ... good. It was like a warm glow had started in his hand and spread up his arm and into his chest.

'Good, but not perfect,' the man murmured.

'We will take that one,' Lucius cut in. 'I have an appointment.'

'But I know I can find a better one,' the man protested. 'The boy has yet to find his partner.'

'He needs a wand, not a partner,' Lucius scoffed, pulling out a bag of galleons and tossing it on the counter. He grabbed Harry's free hand. 'Come along, Draco.' Harry stared at his new wand in his hand as they hurried down the street.

'I can't wait for Hogwarts,' Draco whispered excitedly. Harry looked up at him, feeling helpless and lost. Was he really magical? Draco saw the look. 'Hey, what's wrong? Don't you want to go?' Lucius heard them, for he stopped and crouched down so he was more level with Harry, something he had never done before.

'Put your wand away, Harry,' he instructed, and Harry hastened to obey. 'You are a wizard now, and you need to accept that and act accordingly.' Harry didn't look any less lost and Lucius sighed. 'Think of it this way,' he said briskly, 'you are going to Hogwarts to keep Draco company. If anyone at Hogwarts knew where you came from there would be questions best left unanswered. Can you keep up appearances, Harry?'

'Yes, sir,' Harry answered at once, wanting nothing more than to stay with Draco. If left behind, he might be sent back, and that was not an option. Lucius smiled at him.

'Good.' With that they continued their walk down Diagon Alley.

Five minutes to eleven o'clock on September the first Lucius, Draco, and Harry were all standing in a slightly secluded corner on platform 9 3/4. Their trunks had already been taken away and they were already dressed in their school robes. Harry was looking around with clear awe on his face as the many students and their parents walked by. He had never been in a crowd with so many people, but he wasn't worried as long as he remained with Draco. Lucius stood and gazed down at the two boys, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Draco was barely containing his excitement.

'All right, I think it's time to say goodbye. You two behave yourselves. I expect good work from both of you. Harry, you stay close to Draco.' The two boys nodded. Lucius glanced around quickly before opening his arms to Draco. The little boy took the rare opportunity to hug his father and leaped into the embrace. Lucius lifted Draco up and hugged him back. He would miss his son, and nothing would stop him from saying goodbye properly. Reputation be damned.

'Father, could you hug Harry too? I think he's a little scared,' Draco whispered in his father's ear. Lucius set Draco down and looked critically at Harry. The little boy shifted nervously as he always did when Lucius scrutinized him.

'Come here,' Lucius said suddenly and opened his arms to Harry. It wouldn't do to be seen hugging just one son now would it? Harry looked confused first, but Draco pushed him forward and Lucius hugged him. Harry responded a moment later and hugged back with a force that surprised Lucius. He smiled as he set the boy down again. 'Right, off you go. Stay out of trouble!' The boys nodded once again and Draco took Harry's hand, dragging his "twin" after him towards the train. Lucius stood looking after them, shaking his head slightly.

'Remember what I told you?' Draco said, glancing sideways at Harry as they walked down the corridor to find an empty compartment. Harry nodded, but Draco reminded him anyway. 'Stick with me. You're a Malfoy now so no one's going to mess with you.' Draco had let go of Harry's hand when they reached the train, but Harry was relieved that the corridor was so narrow that he could still stand close.

They came upon an empty compartment and Draco led them inside. They sat down next to each other. Draco was more subdued, but Harry could still tell he was excited.

Draco started going over everything he knew about Hogwarts again and how important it was that Harry get sorted into Slytherin. Harry listened closely even though he had heard it all before. He rarely talked unless prompted by a direct question. After a while the door to the compartment opened and two rather large boys stepped inside. Draco looked them over once before greeting them.

'Crabbe. Goyle.' The two boys nodded and mumbled greetings in reply, and Draco smirked. 'Sit down,' he ordered. The two boys sat down opposite Draco and Harry. 'I'd like to introduce my twin, Harry.' Crabbe and Goyle glanced at each other before Goyle spoke up.

'You don't look like twins,' he said, sounding confused. Draco rolled his eyes at them.

'Obviously we're not identical twins,' he said, looking at Harry and smirking when he saw his non-identical twin was trying to suppress a laugh. Draco turned back to Crabbe and Goyle. 'He's been living with our Mother since he- we were one year old.'

'Oh,' Goyle said, still not any less confused. Draco decided to ignore them for a while. They were good bodyguards at least. Draco continued his conversation with Harry, though in reality he was doing most of the talking.

'What's that on your forehead?' Crabbe asked suddenly, pointing at the scar he had just noticed. Harry's hand immediately went up and tried to smooth down his unruly hair (still untamed even after the magical hair-dresser's best efforts). Draco glared at Crabbe who visibly cringed.

'None of your business,' he said darkly, causing all the other boys to blink at Draco's sudden fierceness. Even Harry was surprised, though warmed, by Draco being ... well, brotherly. Nothing more was said on the matter. After a few hours Draco got bored.

'Come on, let's go explore,' he said, getting up. Crabbe and Goyle followed quickly, no doubt hoping to get some snacks early. Harry took up the rear, as he was busy gazing out the windows along the corridor. He had never been out of the Manor before his letter had come, except for the garden. He didn't even notice that he had stopped completely as he took in the countryside.

'Hey, you sitting in that compartment?' Harry spun around and came face to face with a redhead his age. When he registered the question he glanced to the side at the empty compartment. He shook his head. 'Oh … I'm Ron Weasley by the way.' Harry stared at the hand he was supposed to shake. In his mind he was battling his instincts, which told him not to shake the hand of a wizard. He should tell the boy that he was making a mistake. Then again the boy seemed very nice and Harry's manners kicked in. He was just about to reach out when a voice stopped him.

'Harry, what are you doing?' Harry turned and saw Draco coming towards them, a frown on his face. Crabbe and Goyle were right behind him.

'I was just …' Harry began, but Draco suddenly noticed Ron.

'A Weasley!' he exclaimed, glaring at Ron who glared back. 'Come on, Harry. Malfoys don't associate with _Weasels_.' Harry glanced back and forth between Ron and Draco a few times. He wanted to point out that he wasn't really a Malfoy, not to mention that he wanted to ask what was wrong with the redheaded boy, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything.

'You're both Malfoys? My dad said there was only one of you,' Ron said, eyes narrowed. Draco kept his glare in place.

'We happen to be twins. So you had better stay away from my brother, Weasel.'

'Can't he make decisions for himself?' Ron asked defiantly. They both turned to look at Harry at the same time. Harry swallowed nervously. He had absolutely no idea what to say.

'Harry?' Draco prompted. Harry said the only thing he could think of.

'Can we just go?' he asked, bowing his head, hoping they would just stop looking at him. Draco smirked in a proud sort of way. Ron rolled his eyes.

'Don't want to be friends with Malfoys anyway,' he muttered before turning and walking away.

'Why were you talking to him?' Draco demanded. Harry shook his head, his eyes still on the floor.

'He came up to me,' he said. Draco softened slightly at the obvious guilt in Harry's voice.

'It's ok. No harm done. Just stay away from them. They're no better than mudbloods. You're above them now.' Harry nodded, but was a bit confused. Wasn't he technically a mudblood, if he understood the term correctly? Of course they didn't know where he came from, technically, but surely he wasn't better than the redheaded boy. Maybe Draco was just making sure they kept up the pretence. If Harry failed to convince people he was Draco's brother he could be sent home! Or worse: the workhouse! He needed to start acting the part better. The four boys stepped into the empty compartment. Draco had suddenly lost the taste for exploring.

When they entered the Great Hall Harry was, if possible, even more floored than he had been when he first laid eyes on the castle. The first years were ushered forward to stand before the platform. In front of them was the staff table and a three-legged stool with a worn looking hat on it. A witch, McGonagall, stood before them and was eyeing them critically. The hat suddenly spoke and Harry heard it sing about the houses of Hogwarts. When the name Slytherin was mentioned he felt his heart beat faster. The names of the new students were called one by one and they got sorted. The redhead was put in Gryffindor and Harry glanced at the table to see him be congratulated by three other redheads.

'Draco Malfoy!' McGonagall announced and Draco smirked. He sat upon the stool and the hat was lowered.

'Slytherin!' the hat cried before it had time to be fully placed on the blond head. Draco kept smirking and winked at Harry as he passed and seated himself at the Slytherin table.

'Harry Malfoy!' A hushed whisper went though some of the crowd, especially some older Slytherin students. Harry swallowed hard and stepped tentatively forward. Everybody was looking at him. He sat down and McGonagall lowered the hat. Harry was blinded. He heard a voice in his ear.

'Harry Malfoy? This is interesting. Sure it's not… Patton? Or maybe-'

_No! I'm a Malfoy! I'm Draco's brother!_ Harry screamed inside his head. He heard the hat chuckle.

'Not to worry, young Harry. Your secret is safe with me. Now, where to put you?'

_Slytherin. Let it be Slytherin!_

'Hmm. Not a bad mind on you. You work hard I see, but your bravery is strong too.'

_I'm not brave!_

'You don't think so? I see it all, Harry. You have a fire that is just waiting to be let loose. In Gryffindor you would find people who can help you find yourself.'

_Slytherin! I need to go in Slytherin! _

'Got your heart set on Slytherin, eh? Let me warm you, Harry. You may think Slytherin is right for you, and though it is the easy path to greatness it can also turn out to be a fickle one.' Harry didn't understand what the hat was saying, but right now all he wanted it to do was shout and put him with Draco. 'Very well, Harry, if you are sure?'

_Yes!_

'Guess it'll have to be SLYTHERIN!' Harry breathed a sigh of relief as McGonagall removed the hat from him. He practically skipped over to Draco, who was smirking in that proud way again. Harry sat down amid the cheers that were just for him. Little did he know the hat had taken longer with him than any of the other students. Dumbledore sat at the head table, hands together in a church steeple and looking very pensive.

'You did it, Harry! Wait till Father hears!' Harry was beaming at Draco, who was beaming back, though not so obviously. The Sorting finished and Harry ate a nice meal, though both he and Draco agreed it couldn't compare to home.

Harry wasn't sure he liked the dungeons, but Draco seemed perfectly at home so he didn't say anything. The other boys were curious about him, but Draco told their story and then made them firmly drop the subject. When Harry saw his enormous four-posted bed, however, he grew very unsure.

'I'm sleeping there?' he asked Draco, pointing to the bed where his trunk was placed at the foot, right beside Draco's bed. Draco glanced towards the door, but the other boys hadn't come up yet.

'Remember, you're a Malfoy and you're at Hogwarts, Harry,' Draco explained patiently, though his eyes told Harry he better stop being so slow. Harry gingerly got in bed and found it just as soft as his bed at home. It just looked really big.

'Goodnight, Harry,' Draco whispered. Harry returned the sentiment. Harry thought Draco had fallen asleep, but then he heard him whisper: 'I'm glad you're here with me.'

'Me too,' Harry answered instantly, and snuggled down into his new bed. Maybe this wouldn't be a bad change at all.

Harry's life did change dramatically for the second time. Draco became the undisputed leader of the younger classes, even as a first year. Harry became known as the quiet twin, though he certainly didn't mind. He hated it when he wasn't with Draco, and even more if people started asking him about his strange scar. Harry also didn't care for the Headmaster, who would give him odd looks now and again.

The first year passed with Harry deeply entranced by all that there was to learn as a wizard. He got to have his first flying lesson, and found he was a born natural at it. Madame Hooch took him aside after the lesson and asked him to try out for his House team, but Harry had refused, much to her confusion. It wasn't everyday the flying instructor recommended a first year to try out. It wasn't against the rules, but it was far from the norm. Harry, however, feared what Draco would say and decided to fly more carefully from now on and only take the minimum of required flying lessons. Besides, Lucius had forbidden his son to play the game until at least second year because it was so dangerous.

Harry found himself woefully behind Draco in all the magic classes, but his "brother" set it as his mission to make sure Harry got marks good enough for a Malfoy. Sometimes Harry felt as if he was drowning in school work, all the while having a niggling feeling deep inside him that said: _You are not allowed to do magic! Magic is for wizards! _

Harry improved his "act" and managed to some extent to mimic Draco when it came to dealing with Gryffindors in particular. He still had trouble acting superior if Draco wasn't around though, and he never forgot who he really was.

Once harsh reminder came close to Easter. Harry was nervous as he reached the library. He hated being so dependent on Draco, but he couldn't help it. What if he was nice to the wrong person? Draco was getting extra assignments from Professor Snape, and Harry had been informed he needed to work on his potions essay on his own, as Draco was sick of having to help him with it. Harry, unable to do anything but obey, had gone to the library for some quiet after having failed to concentrate in the common room.

It turned out there were a lot of students looking for the same thing at the moment. There were hardly any tables left. Harry walked passed the many rows of shelves, hoping to find an empty table in the back. Coming to one of the more secluded tables Harry had been hoping would be empty he stopped short. There was a bushy haired girl sitting with several stacks of books. Harry frowned. That was an awful lot of books for a first year, he thought. He looked more closely and saw she was currently working on the same potions essay he was having trouble with, and hers looked like it was twice as long as needed! He noted that she was a Gryffindor, however, and so turned to leave.

'You can sit if you want. Everywhere else is full.' Harry turned back slowly. The girl had looked up and was studying him with a wary, but slightly curious glance. 'Do you need help with your essay? I thought you looked a bit … crestfallen when Professor Snape assigned it.' Harry furrowed his brows in thought.

'You're Granger?' he asked, suddenly remembering. She nodded, a small smile on her lips. 'You'd help me? With my essay?' Harry sounded doubtful.

'Sure, why not?' she shrugged. 'Sit.' Harry moved to sit automatically. He stared at her, unsure of what to say. She smiled back at him. 'I'm Hermione.'

'Harry.'

'Nice to meet you…. You know … you're not at all like your brother.' Harry shifted nervously. Hermione continued as if she hadn't noticed. 'I thought twins were suppose to be more alike. I mean, you're not identical, but still. You should see the Weasley twins. They finish each other's sentences.'

'I've been living with my mother,' Harry said, remembering the excuse.

'Oh,' Hermione said. She looked sad suddenly. 'It's not right to separate brothers like that.' Harry shrugged, a little helplessly.

'So, you can help me? With the essay?' he asked, hoping to change the subject. Hermione nodded, back to the diligent student. She quickly showed him the pages in his book he needed to study and explained a few things he hadn't understood.

'Do you understand?' she asked after one of the more difficult explanations. Harry nodded, but looked unsure.

'I think so. Thank you for helping me, Hermione. Draco's great at potions, but I'm pretty bad. Especially when you have to be so incredibly careful with the stirring.' Hermione nodded in understanding.

'Why doesn't your brother help you?'

'He's busy, besides he helps me way too much already. I don't think I'll ever catch up.' Hermione frowned and was about to answer, but a loud voice cut her off.

'What are you doing?!' Harry looked up and became wide-eyed. Draco was standing with hands at his hips, glaring at the both of them. Harry had obviously made a very big mistake. He swallowed hard.

'She was just helping me with my essay. I …' Hermione was glancing back and forth between the "twins" with a frown. Draco's glare was starting to match his father's in intensity.

'Get up,' he snapped and Harry stood up so quick the chair fell back. Draco came forward and turned his glare fully to Hermione while jerking his head to indicate Harry should step back. 'Don't go anywhere near him again,' he warned Hermione. She stared back defiantly.

'I only offered to _help_ him. He can make decisions for himself.' Draco ignored her and turned to Harry.

'Don't go near her again, understood? She's a filthy _mudblood.'_ He shot another dirty look at Hermione who gasped at the last word. She quickly packed up her books and left. Draco smirked at her retreating back. 'Come on,' he said. They left the library, Harry glancing over at Hermione who had seated herself at another table with several other students. She met his gaze and he looked away quickly. She had been really nice, he thought, and helpful. Oh, well.


	8. Your Mudblood

Hope you like this chapter. It went through quite a few revisions (over the course of two years now) so it feels odd to finally post it. Big thanks to Hidden Lily for the beta, and to everyone who is still reading and enjoying this story.

_Chapter 7: Your Mudblood_

Draco ran from Harry the moment they spotted Lucius on the platform. He was standing far behind the other parents, but Draco had known where to look. Lucius smiled and allowed Draco to barrel into him, lifting him with a mock-grunt.

'Oh, so heavy Draco. You'll be all grown up far too soon.'

'I missed you, Father,' Draco said.

'I missed you too, son,' Lucius said back. He had been rather lonely in the big house all my himself. He had kept himself busy, but the evenings were especially hard. He missed the noise of happy children. He put Draco down when he saw Harry had finally joined them. Harry surprised him by smiling up at him. He seemed more confident, but still dutifully respectful. Lucius approved.

Christmas was the best in the little family's history, and Lucius knew it was because both boys were making the most of being home, while at the same time being excited to get back to Hogwarts. Draco wanted to fly most of the time, despite the cold. Harry watched or threw balls for Draco to catch. Draco was determined to get on the team next year. One evening Lucius was reading in the sitting room with the big French doors towards the Quidditch pitch, while his son zoomed around and showed off.

Said doors opened slightly and Harry's bundled form hurried inside. Lucius looked up from his paper and saw the boy was spelling himself dry. Something lurched in Lucius' heart. He hadn't seen Harry perform magic before, not since the sparks from when he had first held his wand. Seeing active magic from the boy right before him made him realise something: Harry was a wizard. Well, obviously, but Lucius hadn't really thought about it beyond the problems it had caused.

He had bought a muggle from an appalling muggle institution and had gotten a wizard. He wasn't sure how Dumbledore had managed to detect the magical signal, but if he hadn't then Harry would have grown up as Draco's plaything, a muggle, and this caused a very foreign emotion to well up in Lucius: guilt. Why? He couldn't say exactly, only that he knew it could have been his fault Harry grew up as a muggle and that would probably have led to problems with wild magic in later life, without anyone to explain that it was all right and was, in fact, allowed.

'Did you get tired of watching?' Lucius asked quietly. Harry's head snapped up. He quickly straightened and put his wand away.

'I was just ... going to the loo,' Harry murmured, his cheeks flushed from the cold.

'Why don't you take one of Draco's old brooms and fly with him? I presume you've had lessons at Hogwarts?'

'Um, yes, sir,' Harry answered, staring at his shoes. 'But ... I don't really like flying.'

'Oh, well, you mustn't let Draco force you to stand outside in the cold too long.' Harry glanced at him through his fringe with what Lucius interpreted as a confused expression.

'But it wouldn't be fun for Draco without anyone to watch him.' Lucius sighed, and the guilt stabbed him roughly in his chest.

'Come here.' Harry came forward at once until he was standing in front of his owner. Lucius knew Harry considered him as such, or rather did before because he hoped their relationship was better now. 'I know I told you to go to Hogwarts for Draco's sake, but it was only to make things easier for you,' Lucius told his charge seriously. Harry's eyes betrayed his nervousness. Lucius kept his gaze soft as well as his tone. 'But you are a wizard, Harry, and it was wrong for me to suggest that your only worth is as Draco's playmate. One day you will grow up and leave this house to find a place among our community, and you will do so with the Malfoy name behind you. That means a lot of responsibility, but also privilege and, most importantly, heritage.'

Lucius paused and allowed that to sink in. Harry would have nothing of his own, most likely, muggleborn heritage. He would be pure Malfoy, Lucius was determined, or else his decision to give the boy his name would prove disastrous.

'I ... yes, sir,' Harry whispered.

'It's all right, my boy,' Lucius insisted, trying to smile. 'You'll do fine. I didn't mean for things to get so serious. Just remember ... you are your own wizard, Harry. Now, off with you.' The boy was obviously in need, for he ran faster than Lucius had seen him run, and he couldn't help chuckle at his own foolishness to allow the conversation to go down that road.

He had thought he was rescuing a pathetic muggle from a pathetic life, and giving joy to Draco in one go. Instead he had gotten another child with all the same responsibilities as his own son; for both were young wizards in need of proper guidance, and both now had the burden of the Malfoy name.

Dear Merlin, what had he done and gotten himself into?

XXX

Harry couldn't stop thinking about what Mr Malfoy had told him that evening during Christmas break. Did it mean he wasn't supposed to do as Draco said anymore? No, Harry was sure he was still supposed to obey them, but they weren't his masters or owners either. He was a wizard, not a muggle. He wasn't completely below them. It was actually terrifying, but then Draco would refer to him as the younger brother, and Harry thought maybe things would be all right. Because the younger brother still followed the older, right? Harry observed other brothers at Hogwarts and noticed how much they would tease each other, and he thought that was sort of like when Draco got exasperated with Harry over something he didn't know and had to teach him.

I'm my own wizard; such an odd thought, but this was what Harry kept repeating when he found himself alone in the library one evening, in the back, staring at a very bushy head.

'You can sit down if you want,' Hermione said, looking up and startling Harry.

'I- I shouldn't.'

'Because your brother told you not to?' Harry nodded. It was the truth.

'Do you know why he doesn't want you to sit with me?'

'Yes.'

'So you hate muggleborns too?' Harry swallowed. This wasn't something he was supposed to think about. He was a Malfoy now, and they didn't know where he came from, did they? Harry, despite his poor origins in a muggle workhouse, wasn't stupid. Even though he didn't know the word for it, he knew what it was: Hypocrisy. Denial, perhaps, if he was kind. But they had to keep up appearances.

'No,' Harry found himself answering.

'Why not?' She was very curious.

'Because I'm my own wizard,' the words tumbled out of him and Harry blinked. Then Hermione smiled at him and Harry smiled back. Their smiles became grins and then Harry giggled, setting Hermione off and soon they were both laughing and Madam Pince thundered over and hushed them. Hermione apologised while Harry sat down across from her at the librarian's glare. Once again alone, they smiled at each other. 'And you're your own witch,' Harry felt a need to point out.

'Yes, I am. We're the same, in that.' Harry nodded, but then frowned.

'Still, I don't want to upset my brother or-... my f-father.'

'I understand,' Hermione said. 'But what they don't know, won't hurt them.' She winked and Harry tried to smile, but he still felt kinda bad. Then he repeated what Mr Malfoy had said to him and decided to ask Hermione about their charms homework.

XXX

Harry and Hermione met in secret and became good friends. Harry didn't tell her anything about him being an orphaned muggle turned wizard, but he did tell her about how strange it was coming to live with the Malfoys. Of course Hermione thought the difference was between living with Harry's mother and then coming to Britain to his father.

Harry noticed that Draco liked to rile up the Gryffindors, especially Ron Weasley. Harry thought he seemed like a nice boy, though Hermione told him he was a "brainless hooligan," which Harry wasn't sure what that was, but it clearly wasn't good.

Harry had just come down from the library and was meeting up with Draco for dinner, when he spotted the blond standing almost toe-to-toe with the redhead. Ron Weasley's face was almost as red as his hair, and Draco's sneer was particularly nasty.

'Get away from me, Malfoy,' Ron spat. Harry quickened his steps.

'Don't worry, Weasel, I have no intention of getting too close to you. I might catch something! Like poverty!' Harry frowned at that, but then Weasley made a frustrated growl and reached for his wand. Even before Draco reacted, before Weasley had even begun to utter a hex or curse, Harry had hit him with his own jinx.

Weasley's eyes widened and he grabbed at his throat as bubbles started spewing from his mouth, preventing him from cursing anyone. Draco took a shocked step back, looking in the direction the jinx had come from.

'Harry!' Weasley coughed violently and bubbles filled the air. Students around them started giggling and popping the bubbles. 'That was brilliant!'

'He was about to hex you,' Harry mumbled, feeling uncomfortable as several other Slytherins stepped up to compliment his spellwork.

'Harry, how could you? He's having trouble breathing!' Hermione's shrill voice reached him and Harry turned to find her glaring at him. He glanced at Weasley and he did seem to be coughing quite a lot.

'Um ... how do you counter it?' Harry asked, having no idea.

'Don't bother,' Draco said dismissively, grabbing Harry's hand and dragging him away from the scene of the crime. 'That was brilliant. You protected me from the bad weasel,' he laughed. Harry was glad Draco was all right, but he glanced back guiltily at Hermione's disapproving face.

'Draco, I should go back and make sure he's all right.'

'No, you shouldn't. Let's go to dinner. I'm starving.'

'But Draco-'

'Harry, we are going to dinner. Now.' Harry sighed and didn't protest anymore. He didn't like that sharp tone of voice, and he certainly didn't want Draco to ever sneer at him like he had to Weasley.

They went to dinner, but Harry couldn't eat much. He stared when Hermione and Weasley walked in together. Hermione was speaking while Weasley shook his head repeatedly. Harry kept glancing at them all through the meal.

When Draco next buried himself in an advanced potions text and told Harry to amuse himself, he headed straight for the library. He found Hermione at her usual table, but she didn't look up when he sat down.

'He was going to hex Draco,' Harry pointed out.

'Well, you don't know that, and besides, you didn't have to leave him coughing like that,' Hermione countered. 'He almost fainted before I got rid of the bubbles.'

'I'm sorry,' Harry said sincerely. He hadn't meant for anyone to get hurt.

'Tell Ron that.'

'I will.' Hermione looked up at that, took in Harry's forlorn expression and sighed.

'He probably won't listen to you, but you might try... Need help with the Transfiguration?' she asked and Harry perked up immediately.

They worked until curfew and when Harry realised the time he picked up his stuff and ran out of the library. He reached the entrance to the common room with no time to spare. Once inside, he headed straight for the dormitories. He thought Draco was still somewhere reading or with Blaise, but both boys were sitting on their respective beds. There was an odd tension in the room. Blaise got up and walked right past Harry with a sneer for some reason. He closed the door behind him and Harry looked to Draco for an explanation.

'So, where have you been?' Draco asked, reclining against the headboard.

'The library. Transfiguration.'

'All by your lonesome?'

'Um, yeah.' Harry mumbled. He hated lying to Draco. He hated lying period.

'Really? No little mudbloods around?'

'Don't call her that,' Harry whispered.

'What was that?!' Draco jumped off his bed and stalked over to Harry, who couldn't help but lower his gaze. 'I'll call her whatever I damn well please. If I ever find out you've been hanging around her again you will be in so much trouble. You're not to speak to her again, is that clear?'

'Why? She's nice and I like her,' Harry bit his lip- what was he saying?

'Nice!? She's a filthy mudblood!'

'And what am I?!' Harry cried, staring into Draco's eyes and feeling his own tearing up. 'What makes me different? Maybe it's because I'm _your _mudblood?'

'Don't say that,' Draco hissed, grabbing Harry's shoulders and shaking him. 'You're different. Of course you are. She'll never understand our world.'

'Your world.'

'Ours!' Draco insisted. Harry nodded, not liking it when Draco yelled. 'Look, this is just something you have to trust me on. You can't be seen with her. A Malfoy can't associate with her kind. Do as I say.'

'Yes, Draco,' Harry intoned, feeling defeated.

'Good. Now let's look over your homework.' Harry didn't point out that Hermione had already helped him, and accepted his owner's help.


	9. A Book

Big thanks to Hidden Lily for the beta and to all readers and reviewers. I was gonna post this last night, but the internet went away for a bit. Hope you like!

NOTE: In this chapter I mention the Andover Workhouse scandal (Find it here, remove spaces: http : // en. wikipedia .org /wiki/Andover_workhouse_scandal), which was a real event. This of course means that you can place this story in the year 1846, but I'm not completely sure you should do this, as other things might not fit with the real historic timeline. FIction with wizards in it, remember ;)

_Chapter 8: A Book _

Lucius observed their spell-casting with a critical eye. Draco was waving his wand dramatically, trying to show off his knew skills. Harry was the exact opposite, only barely producing the desired effect.

'Very good, boys,' Lucius stopped them. 'You've clearly learned a lot.' Draco smirked at the praise. 'Now I want you to remember that even though it is summer, you are big boys now and there will be work every week. You must maintain your new skills and knowledge.' Both boys nodded. 'Harry, you need to be more determined in your wand work.' The boy immediately bowed his head in shame. 'I know you are perfectly capable, Harry,' Lucius told him. 'Just be conscious of your wrist movements.'

'Yes, Sir,' Harry murmured.

'All right, off you go and have fun.' Draco grabbed Harry's hand before Lucius had even finished the sentence, and off they went. Lucius chuckled and went back to his work.

He was actually reading a very disturbing report on a workhouse in Andover. The place seemed even more appalling than the workhouse in which he had found Harry. The Master of the house had been sacked, and there was going to be a new board set up to better monitor the workhouses. Lucius approved of this, though he didn't get his hopes up much as his faith in muggles wasn't very high. Still, he hoped this would prove a good development for his work.

His interest in the odd institution of workhouses and the principle of "less eligibility" had come and gone over the years since Harry's arrival. Since he discovered Harry's magic ability, however, his interests had shifted. How many other wizards and witches were lost in this tragic system? The fact that they were muggleborn was not an issue Lucius could ignore, but he had rather easily justified his fascination: if they could all be rescued, they could be brought up in the wizarding world. They would have the right view of the world, the right culture and the new blood Lucius knew deep down they needed. It really was good for everyone all around. They could rescue the children that were stuck in those horrible places, either due to their parents' poverty or having been abandoned for their strangeness, and get rid of their muggleborn-ness all in one.

He just needed to find a way to detect them before it was time for them to go to Hogwarts. With the current system, orphaned muggle children received financial support from the Ministry, but there wasn't actually any real system to control where they went during the summer, and no one outside the Ministry seemed to know much about detecting muggleborns at all. Also, those whose parents were also in the workhouses, what of them? Lucius suspected the current system for muggleborn detection was simply missing a lot of children. He wanted to form a research group to look into the situation, and he had the contacts at the Ministry to get all the information on their current routines. There was just the question of if, or how, Hogwarts detected this magic. Dumbledore must have his own ways, for how else had he found Harry?

He couldn't very well ask the man, for he didn't want anyone to know what he was doing. It was his secret project, for now. So he was just going to have to work with what he had.

The report disgusted him thoroughly, and he fervently hoped the new board would improve things. He decided to begin research immediately and went to the library to find every book he had on the Ministry and muggleborn detection.

XXX

Lucius woke early so he could get right back to his work. He wanted to get an outline of the history of muggleborn detection. It wasn't easy, as there was no official history, but luckily there were quite a few books in the Malfoy library that held references. He needed to sort through them before he went to the Ministry's archives.

He reached the wide double doors, which opened magically, and strode into his prized library. It was one of the biggest rooms, apart from the ballrooms, in Malfoy Manor. From the doors there was a clear line to the high cathedral-like windows and a comfortable chair and desk. The ceiling was very high over this area. To the right and left were several rows of books, all stretching back underneath the balcony of the first floor that wound like a horse-shoe around the room. Up there was another long row of books following the shape, with a winding ornate staircase by the double doors.

He was about to go straight to the desk and the stacks of books waiting for him, when he heard a muffled thud from the rows of books to his right. He walked forward, checking each row only to find them empty – until the very last where he saw his son trying to float down another book from a high shelf, around five already strewn around his feet.

Lucius frowned. Draco was allowed to look for books in the library, but he had clear instructions on which rows were suitable for him, and the row he currently occupied wasn't one of them. However, he could well guess what Draco was looking for: potions books, only far too advanced potions books.

Lucius watched as Draco floated a book down from the very top shelf and Lucius frowned. It was a rather small book and didn't look like the other bulky tomes that filled the rest of the shelf. It jogged something in his memory. There was a reason that book was tucked away in the wrong section, and on the top shelf.

Draco grabbed the book and opened it, furrowing his brows in confusion. He turned page after page, getting more confused. Lucius abruptly realised there was nothing written on the pages, and he knew which book it was.

'Draco,' he snapped. His son's head snapped up, his eyes wide and guilty. 'Put the book down this instant.'

'I was just-'

'_Accio_ book!' Lucius hadn't drawn his wand so fast since the last war. The book flew from Draco's hand and Lucius' fears were confirmed when it reached him. 'This book is not for you.'

'But what is it? It's just blank.' Lucius strode down the row and started flicking his wand, sending the other books back to their places. Draco followed them with his eyes and Lucius could see his son was impatient to improve his spellcasting, looking envious at how easily Lucius manipulated the books.

'Where is Harry?'

'Doing homework,' Draco shrugged.

'As you should be. What made you think you had permission to wander in the library?' Draco looked down at his feet with a bashful expression.

'I just wanted to impress Professor Snape. He says I've got potential.' Lucius told himself this was not the time to feel pride. His son needed to be punished.

'Then you should do your assigned homework to the best of your abilities, not go snooping in places I have expressly forbidden you. One day you will be able to handle these books, but that day is not today. Do you understand?'

'Yes, Father,' Draco replied dutifully, sounding disappointed but resigned.

'Go back to Harry. I will consider your punishment and let you know.' Draco was about to scurry away when he sneaked a peak up at Lucius.

'What is that book?' he asked. Lucius sighed. He wanted his son to understand the danger, but he didn't want to reveal too much. At the same time he didn't believe in lying to his child.

'This book is not for you. It is a diary that can influence the person who writes in it.'

'How?'

'That is not for you to know.' At Draco's disappointed look, Lucius added, 'when you are older I will explain.' This always seemed to placate Draco, but now he just huffed and walked away. Lucius sighed again and shook his head. Inquisitive boys: what a nightmare. He went to the desk and placed the book in a drawer, feeling a chill crawl up his spine at the thought of that book. He knew it was no ordinary diary. The Dark Lord had given it to him for safe-keeping, saying only that he could employ it at Hogwarts "if ever I need to return there, but am not able to in person." Lucius wasn't sure what that meant, but he knew it didn't mean anything good. He was perfectly aware of how terrifyingly mad and violent the Dark Lord had become before his disappearance. No matter what people thought of him, even Lucius Malfoy would never wish that creature on a school full of children, especially not with his son and his other charge there.

He put the book out of his mind and went back to work.

It wasn't until he was sitting down for dinner with the two boys that he remembered Draco's punishment was still to be decided. It was clear by Draco's subdued mood that the child was waiting for his sentence. He rarely misbehaved. The few antics he had been up to usually involved showing off for Harry, and Lucius had to berate him for doing something too dangerous for a child. This, however, needed some stricter discipline.

'Draco,' Lucius spoke during their dessert. 'I need you to understand that I have few rules, but the ones I do are for your protection.'

'Yes, Father. I know that,' Draco said softly, picking at his crème brulée. Harry glanced at him, but concentrated on his dessert.

'Yet you disobeyed me deliberately. I want you to write me a twenty inch essay on the nature of your infraction and why you must abide by my rules. I want you to include specifically what you thought you were going to accomplish and why you now know you must take the time to advance your knowledge systematically before you can read those books. I want it to be properly structured.'

'Twenty!' Draco cried, his spoon clanking against the bowl as he dropped it. Harry winced. 'That's longer than any essay I had to do at Hogwarts.'

'You'll no doubt experience longer essays there in the years to come,' Lucius said dismissively.

'But- but that's too long!'

'Perhaps it will make you realise the severity of your infraction.'

'It was only potion books,' Draco muttered stubbornly.

'You know very well that the contents of some of the books are not for your eyes,' Lucius scolded, his voice harsh now. Harry winced again and seemed to shrink in on himself. Draco looked more and more upset. 'Not to mention that the books themselves might be dangerous.'

'I wasn't going to brew any of the potions.'

'Draco!' Lucius thundered. His son looked up at him with wide eyes. Lucius very seldom raised his voice. 'You will write that essay and I sincerely hope you will change your attitude or I may be forced to deny you access to the library altogether!'

'Yes, Father, I'm sorry.' Draco sounded properly contrite now. Lucius sighed, trying to go back to his dessert, but not having any taste for it. He put his napkin on the table and rose.

'I have some work left.'

Lucius did in fact do a couple hours more of work, though his heart had not been in it, before he went upstairs to the boys' room. He wasn't sure when they would be too old for him to say goodnight to them, but he was at least going to check they went to bed at a reasonable hour. He found them both in their beds, though the torches were still lit.

'Time for bed,' Lucius said, extinguishing the torch close to Harry's bed. 'Goodnight, Harry.'

'Goodnight, Sir.' He went to Draco's bed and extinguished the torch there.

'Goodnight, Draco,' he said, wondering if he would get a response.

'Goodnight, Father... I'm sorry about earlier.' Lucius smiled and couldn't help but lean down and kiss Draco on his forehead.

'Apology accepted, but you're still doing the essay.'

'I know.'

'Good. You're a good boy, my son.' With that he left the boys to sleep, feeling confident Draco had learned his lesson and would stay away from dangerous books.

XXX

'What's that?' Harry asked. Draco was sitting on his bed and reading a book. It looked old... and empty.

'Nothing,' Draco lied. Harry could tell when he did easily.

'Oh,' Harry shrugged and went to his own bed. He sat down and took his own book from the bedside table. He waited, pretending to read.

'Get over here,' Draco huffed after a moment. Harry hid his grin and calmly put his book back before going back to Draco's bed, sitting cross-legged.

'I have finally decided on a payback for that Granger girl.'

'Payback for what?' Harry asked, confused.

'For everything!' Draco exclaimed. 'She's such a know-it-all. She's best in our year,' he grumbled. 'And she had the nerve to befriend you when you both know you should stay away from each other. She needs to be taken down a peg.'

'Draco, I don't want you to hurt her,' Harry said seriously. Draco rolled his eyes.

'I'm just going to give her a little book. She likes books, doesn't she?' he asked innocently. Harry's eyes narrowed at Draco's smirk. He reached forward to take the book, but Draco snatched it away from him. 'Hands off, Harry. This is for Granger. A present if you will.'

'What will it do to her?'

'You'll just have to wait and see.'

'Draco, no, don't do it,' Harry pleaded. He didn't like the look of the old book at all.

'I'll do whatever I want,' Draco declared.

'Please, don't-'

'Silence,' Draco proclaimed rather haughtily. Harry frowned at the book.

'Draco, if you do this ... just don't, ok? She's really nice and helped me loads with my homework.'

'She's a know-it-all mudblood and deserves whatever she gets,' Draco hissed. 'And you stay away from her.'

'But-'

'Do as I say, Harry,' Draco's tone broke no argument, and Harry sighed and fell silent. He went back to his bed and grabbed his book. He didn't look at Draco again for the rest of the evening, and so didn't see how Draco kept sending him piercing looks.

The rest of the summer passed far too quickly. Harry had managed to forget about the book and Draco's harsh orders, so when he was left alone for a moment on the Hogwarts Express, he didn't understand Draco's smug smirk when he came back.

'What are you so happy about?'

'You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?' It was said in the exact same tone as last time and Harry immediately knew what the blond was up to.

'Draco, no!'

'Hush, you,' Draco said dismissively. 'It's a diary not some hand-eating curse book.'

'A diary?'

'Yes, but I'm not telling you anything else about it.' With that Draco got up to find the sweet cart and left Harry alone with a sick feeling in his stomach.


	10. Chapter 9

Hello all. I'm sorry for not updating last week, but I've run out of pre-written chapters. Tomorrow I'm leaving for Easter holiday (you'll find most Norwegians have disappeared up into the mountains around Easter, it's a very popular tradition) so I'm leaving you with this chapter. Hopefully, the fresh air and delicious water will kick start my muse.

Big thank you to Hidden Lily for the beta.

Chapter 9

Harry began his second year at Hogwarts with quiet determination to keep things as they were. Draco was in a good mood ever since the train ride, but Harry could not figure out what the young Slytherin had done to Hermione. He observed the girl every chance he got, but never approached her. He couldn't tell if she was acting oddly at all. She was in the library, as usual, almost all the time, alone.

When it came to his own studies Harry came to realise that while he felt privileged to attend Hogwarts and so worked hard in all his subjects, it was Defence Against the Dark Arts that came naturally to him. There was a new teacher this year, the former having left after a nervous breakdown last spring. Lockhart was rather ... exuberant, Harry thought, and most of the time forgot Harry existed at all, but "the quiet brother" hardly minded. Draco had to shine in all his pursuits.

Draco also tried out for the Quidditch team, and got the Seeker position, and Lucius had been so proud he had bought the team new brooms. Ridiculously expensive brooms. Harry was very happy for him, but it meant more time alone, and the temptation to go to the library was very strong ... but he resisted.

With Quidditch came a more pronounced rivalry with Gryffindor, however, and this brought out the side of Draco Harry liked the least. He would throw taunts and insults at the Gryffindors every chance he got. It almost got him into trouble when he tried it on a couple of fourth years, but luckily some older Slytherins stepped in.

XXX

Draco became very popular when he won the first match against Gryffindor. Harry was pleased for him. As for himself he liked the way the Slytherins treated him now too. They clearly liked him better after hexing a Gryffindor in defense of his brother last year, but now left him alone quicker; they understood he didn't like attention, and respected that.

Harry felt kinda bad over the whole incident, though, despite the perks that came from it. He knew Ronald Weasley could give as good as he got, but he still felt bad for jinxing him – he couldn't help it. So, during one of Draco's many Quidditch practices Harry found himself wandering towards Gryffindor territory. He knew Ron had been late at dinner, so he should be going back to the common room right around....

Harry stopped short just around the corner, listening to the laughter and footsteps of the Gryffindor second years. They were coming up the stairs, about to go down the long corridor Harry knew held the entrance to the lion's den.

'We're gonna knock them from the sky!' one of the boys cried and everyone cheered. Harry stepped out just as they reached the top of the stairs. There were four of them and they all stopped short at the Slytherin's appearance.

'What are you doing here,' Weasley growled. Harry swallowed, but schooled his features into a neutral mask.

'Could I have a word?' Weasley was clearly suspicious, but his curiosity obviously got the better of him for he nodded towards his friends and they walked past, mumbling and shooting bemused glances at the snake.

'What?' Weasley snapped when the others were down the corridor.

'I just wanted to apologise for jinxing you. I shouldn't have used such a jinx. I should have disarmed you, but I guess ... I panicked. I'm sorry.' Harry was surprised at how steady his voice was. He was unable to look the redhead in the eye, however, and was startled when Weasley was suddenly right in his face.

'You can shove your apology up your arse,' he hissed. 'Sneaky snake, you think I'm falling for it?'

'I- no, I'm sorry.' Harry backed away. Stupid of him. Why should he bother? If Draco knew he was here, he would surely get an earful about Slytherins not ever apologising to Gryffindors. But he also had this weighty feeling inside him. He turned away and moved towards the stairs.

'You don't act like your brother,' Weasley said suddenly, causing Harry to spin around.

'No- I guess not.'

'Why?' Harry shrugged. Weasley shook his head and walked away, leaving Harry confused. He hurried back down to the dungeons, knowing he had to be back in the common room before Draco came back.

As he passed the library, the light seemed to stream outwards towards him, beckoning him. He knew he shouldn't, but the weighty feeling wouldn't go away. His steps echoed loudly and he tried to be quiet. The library was virtually empty. It was Friday evening, so that was hardly surprising. Only a few diligent students remained. Harry knew exactly where she would be.

She was writing furiously in a book - Harry drew in a sharp breath – it wasn't just any book. Harry was positive it was the book Draco had been playing with before school; the one he had slipped to Hermione on the train. Harry frowned at the girl. She was scribbling quickly, covering almost an entire page, before she suddenly stopped and sat back, as if waiting for something.

Harry's eyes widened as the ink on the page slowly disappeared. They were both holding their breath, so Hermione didn't hear Harry's exhale over her own as new writing appeared out of nowhere on the page. She sat forward eagerly, her eyes scanning the page with wide eyes.

'Who are you?' she whispered. It sounded like some great secret she was desperate to find out. 'Who are you really?' she repeated. Harry did not like it, not one bit. He had to do something. He suddenly noticed how pale and drawn the girl looked, like she hadn't slept in ages.

'Hermione?' Harry said quietly, hoping not to scare her, but he was less than successful. She jumped up, eyes wide as saucers.

'Harry! What are you doing here? You're not suppose to come near me, remember.' She quickly started packing her things away, the book going into her bag first.

'Why do you care what Draco tells me to do?' Harry frowned. She reminded Harry of the Mistress at the workhouse and how frazzled she would become when she was confused and angry about something Harry had done.

'Well, you wouldn't want to upset your brother now would you?' she said reasonably. 'Run along now.'

'Hermione, are you feeling all right?'

'Why would you care?' She asked coldly and Harry recoiled at her glare. She didn't look like herself anymore.

'Of course I care.'

'No you don't! You follow your brother around like a kicked puppy, doing his dirty work for him even!'

'No- I didn't mean to hurt Ron, not really-'

'Yes you did!'

'He was going to hurt Draco.'

'He would have deserved it.'

'Hermione!' Harry exclaimed. This wasn't like her at all. 'What's wrong?'

'Go away, Harry. You don't understand. No one does.' With that she grabbed her bag and shoved her way harshly passed Harry. He stood staring after her and therefore got a right good telling to from Madam Pince, but he hardly heard her.

One thing was clear: that book was doing something. It was clearly magical. Affecting her somehow. Harry pondered it as he walked back to the common room. He knew Malfoy Manor held lots of stuff he wasn't supposed to go near. Draco had obviously taken some magical artifact. This was bad. What would happen to Hermione? Harry needed to stop it, but he couldn't tell Draco. That would mean admitting he went to see her.

No, the best thing was just to steal the book back and return it to Malfoy Manor during the holidays.

Yes, Harry was very pleased with this plan.

XXX

Harry bit his lip again, glancing nervously at Draco. The boy was laughing and chatting away with his Quidditch friends, all of them making the compartment quite full. Despite the poor heating on the train, it was stifling. Could Harry sneak out? He would have to soon, or it would be too late.

'Haven't you considered trying out for the team, Harry?' Flint asked, causing Draco's attention to focus on them, though only Harry noticed. He avoided his brother's eyes, staring instead at the book in his lap, a wizarding novel he had borrowed from the library.

'Nah, I don't like flying- I mean, I like watching Quidditch, since Draco's brilliant, but I'm no good.' Flint lost interest quickly after that, and Harry decided it was now or never. He waited until the Slytherins decided to play a game of "see if Crabbe or Goyle could eat more sweets without passing out" or something in that vein. Harry slipped out of the compartment and made his way to the back of the train. He knew, as everyone did, that the loners took those seats. He hurried his footsteps when he noticed how close they were to London.

Sure enough, Hermione was in one of the last compartments, furiously scribbling in the book. Harry frowned when she suddenly slapped it shut, stuffed it in her bag and then buried her head in her hands. He hoped she wasn't crying as he knocked tentatively. Her head snapped up, eyes clear and dry. Harry slid the door opened and tried to put on a sincere and apologetic smile.

'Hey, can I sit with you, just for a bit?'

'Won't Draco miss you?' Hermione asked, hurt evident in her voice.

'He's surrounded by fans,' Harry smiles in a "typical of him"-fashion and rolled his eyes. He got no response, just a cold stare, and had to swallow hard. 'Please?'

'Fine.' Harry breathed a silent sigh of relief and entered the compartment, sitting on the same side as Hermione, with her bag between them. She looked conflicted suddenly, and tense, but she left the bag where it was. Harry was sad at the thought that she wanted something between them more than keeping the book from him.

'So, how's the year been so far?' Harry asked.

'Fine.' Hermione turned and stared out the window. Silence reigned. Harry eyed the bag and deliberated how to proceed. He couldn't very well ask "read any good books lately?"

'It'll be good to be home for Christmas, though, right?' Harry tried. This got him a loud snort, surprising him. Hermione shook her head at the moving landscape.

'A pureboy such as yourself wouldn't understand what it's like at all,' she muttered.

'Pureboy?'

'Pureblood, pureboy, puregirl, it's all the same. You have no idea.'

'Try me.' Hermione turned such fierce eyes on him that he almost backed away, but resisted the urge.

'I'm a girl.'

'Um … yes, I am aware,' Harry frowned.

'And you're a boy. We attend the same school, the same classes, we get the same education, we could do the same sports, the same activities, we wear practically the same robes, and when we're done we might even get exactly the same jobs.'

'So?' Harry did not give voice to the ugly little … goblin inside him that jumped and screamed at him that he didn't deserve the same job as Hermione. He was supposed to keep Draco company and then … well, disappear when the boy was finished with him. But that was the old Harry talking, for he knew now, he told himself fervently, that he was a wizard and could, potentially, get a proper wizarding job. Nothing like Draco, or Hermione with her brains, but something, surely? Something useful, something Mr. Malfoy would be, if not proud of, then at least think acceptable.

Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes, muttering about purebloods again, when Harry finally considered her point of view. In the workhouse the girls had been strictly separated from the boys. Maybe the rest of muggle society was like that? He didn't know; he had never been in proper muggle society.

'My parents don't even know half of all this and they still think it's crazy. They're all for proper education, that's why they let me come, because the wizard who explained it to them assured them I would get knowledge and not just some satanic rituals. But all my life I've been told it's all right to read books, since my father's very indulgent with that sort of thing, but one day I'm to find a husband and be a good wife. A respectable wife. But how can I stay here seven years and then go back there?' By the end of her speech Hermione was pleading, asking for answers Harry hadn't the faintest idea how to approach. Her eyes were no longer dry.

'Isn't there someone you can talk to?' Harry asked, feeling hopeless. 'Professor McGonagall, or-'

'There is, but I'm not sure I can trust him.' She averted her eyes guiltily and Harry wondered if she was speaking to another boy.

'And what does he say?'

'That I should find what I'm passionate about and follow my dreams, and not listen to my parents.'

'Well, you should never not listen to your parents.' That Harry knew, even though he technically listened to his owners, but he remembered it was one of the most important lessons in Sunday school at the workhouse. Honour your father and mother.

'So, I shouldn't stay?'

'What? No, I mean yes, you have to stay.' Harry reached out and placed a hand on hers and she smiled for the first time since their first meeting. Harry smiled back with relief, until she grew sad again.

'But then they'll never speak to me again.'

'Surely you can … compromise or something?'

'Riddle says compromise leads to you not getting what you want.'

'Riddle? Who's he?'

'Oh!' Hermione covered her mouth with her hand, eyes wide. 'No one.' And Harry knew by the look in her eyes it was the book. She wrote in it and someone wrote back, magically from some place. 'I just … I don't know what to do, and I couldn't talk to you because of Draco and it seems like a lot of people think like that and maybe I just don't belong here.' The tears were back and Harry had to reach out again. He opened his arms and she sniffed loudly before falling into them, the bag squashed between them. Harry tried to keep his breathing steady, hugging her tightly with one arm. He slipped his other hand while making comforting noises at her. He hoped to Merlin he had the right book. He pulled it out ever-so-slowly, hoping she wouldn't notice.

Just then the whistle blew and they were slowing down quickly in to King's Cross.

Hermione gave another 'Oh!' and pulled back, and saw Harry with the book in his hand. 'Harry!'

His body made the decision for him, it seemed. He was out of the compartment before she had the time to scream at him to give it back. If he could just get it away from her for the holiday, she would forget about this Riddle character and all would be well.

He sprinted down the corridor, and heard her yelling and coming after him. He reached the exit and jumped out, scanning the crowd for Draco.

He was with his father, at the back, and the luggage was being taken care of by a few house-elves popping away even as Harry dashed towards them. He stuffed the book inside his robe and tried to calm his breathing.

'Harry, there you are!' Draco chided. 'Where were you?'

'I just took a walk,' Harry lied.

'More like a run,' Lucius commented and Harry bowed his head, unable to meet the man's eye. 'Welcome home in any case, come along.' Harry moved towards the Floos opposite the platform. Draco was shooting him suspicious looks, but there was nothing Harry could say to him. He glanced over his shoulder one last time.

Hermione stood staring after him with such a deep look of betrayal, Harry almost turned right there, the guilt was crushing him, but he swallowed it down and followed Draco home.


	11. How you treat your enemies

_Hello there! Are you still reading this story? If so, then thank you very much for your patience. I had trouble with my writing program this week, and I've been working on the plot of the whole story so that I know what to put in each chapter. I hope you are all still enjoying this story because I think my muse is starting to flare to life!_

_Big thanks to Hidden Lily for her great betawork :) _

_Chapter 10: How you treat your enemies.._

Harry managed to step carefully out of the Floo despite holding tightly onto the book underneath his robe. Lucius was waiting for them with a 'Welcome home, boys,' and Draco gave a dramatic sigh.

'Merlin's staff it's good to be home! What's for dinner? I'm sick of institution food,' he prattled on as he wandered with his father towards the study. Harry felt the book slipping as he tried to appear as if he wasn't holding anything. The Malfoys weren't looking, so he stuck his hand underneath his robe and pushed the book up under his arm. Now he could just keep his left arm close to his body. 'It really is amazing how putting so many house elves together makes them completely unimaginative!' Lucius chuckled at his son's trials and tribulations. The Malfoy house elves were already popping away the boys' trunks, so Harry needed to get upstairs quick.

'I seem to recall Hogwarts food as some of the best of my life,' Lucius murmured.

'Well, perhaps the house elves are getting old … or you are,' Draco stuck his tongue out at Lucius.

'Why you little-!' Draco took off and while Lucius would never run, he didn't reprimand Draco for doing so inside and even playfully shouted after him.

'Oh, you better run little demon!' He had reached the entrance to the salon now. Harry wanted to sneak upstairs. Unfortunately, Lucius turned his eyes on his charge at that moment. Harry froze with one foot on the bottom step.

'Are you running off too? What's gotten into the pair of you? Is running a new trend?' Harry could tell the man was only teasing, and didn't really expect an answer, but he straightened up and answered respectfully anyway.

'No, Sir, I won't run indoors, I promise.'

'I never implied you would, Harry.' Uh oh, he sounded suspicious. Harry nervously shuffled his feet, a terrible habit as it turned out, because the book shifted and he had to freeze again to stop it from moving. Lucius frowned at the odd moment. 'Are you hiding something?' Harry's palms were sweaty and he bowed his head away from those piercing eyes. He would have to outright lie … but would Mr Malfoy be able to tell?

'No- no, Sir.' Bugger! Harry bit his lip in frustration.

'Harry,' Lucius said with clear warning. Harry's breathing seemed to be stuttering even without him speaking. His arm was hurting from holding it so stiffly against the book. How on earth was he going to get out of this? Mr Malfoy was going to be _so angry_. He was going to send Harry back to the Workhouse. Harry was never going to see the outside world ever again!

'Harry!' Lucius was suddenly kneeling before him, holding onto his shoulders. He shook the hyperventilating boy hard and Harry started, and a thunk was heard. They both looked down.

By Harry's feet lay an old book. Lucius knew it instantly, but he failed to believe it could actually have come from Harry's robes. He blinked several times. Surely he was seeing things? Slowly, he reached for the book and picked it up. It didn't miraculously change in his hand. It was Tom Riddle's diary.

'Harry, tell me at once, how did you get this?' Lucius looked up into the boy's face. Harry's eyes were wide with fear- no, terror.

'I- I found it … in the library. I didn't- I was curious.'

'You're lying.' It was clear as day on the boy's face. He was making it up off the top of his head. 'Tell me the truth, right now.' Harry swallowed several times. 'Did Draco give this to you?'

'No!' Somehow, Lucius believed him, but how did the book land in the boy's possession otherwise? Harry sniffed and bowed his head again. 'I did take it, I did. _Please don't send me away!' _ Lucius sighed and closed his eyes briefly. Harry's whispered plea pounded into him like a guilt-inducing curse.

'Look at me, Harry.' The boy's eyes were glassy and fearful. 'I will never send you away, no matter what you do. You are part of the family and family cannot be sent away, is that clear?' Those ridiculously big green eyes blinked up at him in confusion. Slowly, Harry nodded and took a steadying breath. 'The truth.'

'Draco had it, I don't know how, and he gave it to Hermione.'

'Hermione? Granger?' Lucius remembered Draco complaining about her being best in their year. Anger swept through him at the thought of his son's deliberate disobedience, but he kept it in check while in front of Harry.

'Yes, she … Draco doesn't like her.'

'And how did you come to have it?'

'I- I took it from her. She was… acting strange. I didn't like her writing in the book. I know she's smart, but- I just-'

'It's alright Harry, it was good of you to take it from her. You may very well have saved her life.' In truth Lucius didn't know the exact nature of the diary, but he knew it could hardly be good.

'Really?' Lucius patted the boy on the shoulder.

'Yes, but you should have come to me straight away when you saw Draco with the book. You know Draco wouldn't give anything to what he considers competition without an ulterior motive.'

'Yes, Sir, I'm really sorry, I just didn't know what to do.' Harry was truly ashamed of what he had done, even though he had actually done something remarkable. Still, discipline must be maintained.

'Apology accepted, however, I think in punishment you won't have any Christmas goodies until you've finished every assignment you have for the holidays, is that clear?'

'Yes, Sir, I'll do them all straight away!'

'Good, off you go then, I'll call you down for dinner.'

'But I won't finish in time for dinner.'

'I said Christmas goodies, not food, Harry.' Lucius stood and patted the boy once more on the shoulder before going in search of his son. He heard Harry sprint upstairs and wondered if there wasn't some way that Draco could learn a thing or two from Harry for a change.

He found Draco in the drawing room, stealing a chocolate from the fine porcelain dish on the table. He looked up and grinned, popping the sweet in his mouth. When Lucius held up the book, his eyes popped wide and he almost choked on the chocolate.

'I found Harry with this. Do you know anything about it?'

'What is it, Father?' Draco asked, and fine actor though he was, Lucius could hear the guilt a mile off.

'It's the book I caught you with last summer.'

'Oh? And Harry had it you say? I haven't seen it since the summer.' This much was true, Lucius suspected, but Draco was avoiding his eye and studied the chocolates as if choosing another one, but he was otherwise completely still.

'So you have no idea why Harry took it?'

'No, Father, I have no idea.'

'Draco!' Lucius thundered and Draco jumped. 'I am thoroughly ashamed and disgusted with you. How can you let Harry take the blame for this?'

'I- I-' Draco knew he was caught, so he simply bowed his head and accepted his fate.

'You have been brothers at Hogwarts for a year and a half and this is how you treat him? I shudder to think how you treat your enemies … but I already know that. You endanger their very lives by giving them artifacts of which you know nothing but the fact that they are dangerous. Is this how I raised you? Answer me!'

'I- I don't know,' Draco whispered. Lucius could hear he was crying. The words stopped him short. Had he given the boys any impression of ruthlessness to such a degree? He was ruthless in politics, and he had done terrible things for his own survival during the Dark Lord's time, but he hoped he would spare Draco the need to go to war. In peacetime, there was no need to go to such lengths, and lose one's soul.

'A twelve-year-old girl who has done nothing to you, does she deserves to be treated as some sort of experiment for your amusement?'

'Nobody likes her,' Draco muttered, 'she's a know-it-all, bossy tattle-tale-mudblood.' Lucius knew he had never used that word in front of his boys, but Draco could have read it somewhere, and definitely heard it from his peers at Hogwarts. Still, it stung to hear such a disgusting and debasing insult coming from his son's lips.

He knew his son's views on muggleborns were his fault and no one else's, but he hadn't realised how a few disparaging comments could become the One Truth in his son's impressionable young mind. He was incapable of being pragmatic about the muggleborn question; he had not weighed all sides of the debate as Lucius had over the years. All he knew was Malfoy history and tradition. He knew nothing of inbreeding, conveniently left out of the history books.

'You will have no presents this year.' Draco gasped and it looked like he would protest, but Lucius continued, raising his voice. 'You will not leave your room. You will do all your assignments, and then continue with school work for the rest of the holiday. I will be sending a letter to Hogwarts explaining that you will be unable to continue with Quidditch.'

'No! Please!'

'You will NOT touch a broom until I give you leave, and I will not until I am convinced you have learned to obey me, and to respect your fellow human beings. Neither are here for your amusement!' Lucius was shouting by the end, despite his hatred of the act, and Draco had cowered away from him, but it could not be helped. He didn't know what else to do. 'Perhaps you can learn from Harry, who is already dutifully completing his punishment, about respecting other people's property, and life.' With that Lucius turned away and swept out of the room. He needed to get away as far as possible. He should punish himself for his failure as a father. So he locked himself in his study and buried himself in his work.

Upstairs, Harry nearly fell off the bed when Draco slammed the door behind him. He stared at Harry for a long moment and the silence was more tense than Harry had ever experienced. He decided the only thing he could do was go back to work. He heard Draco coming closer and stand by his bed.

'You got the book back?' Draco asked suddenly. Harry only nodded. 'And you gave it to Father?'

'No, he found it. I told him I took it, but he didn't believe me.' Draco was quiet for a long time, and Harry almost looked up, but then Draco walked away and flopped down on his own bed. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe Draco would forgive him, some day. Harry focused on his work until dinner.

The table was completely silent. Draco picked at his food, and Harry tried to eat quietly. Lucius was actually reading at the table, which he had never done as far as Harry could remember. After a while he put the papers down and sighed.

'How are your studies coming along, Harry? Keeping your grades up?'

'Yes, Sir,' Harry answered.

'Have to a favourite subject this year?' Harry hesitated, but decided he couldn't do anything but answer truthfully. He doubted he could ever lie to Mr Malfoy again.

'I like Defence the best.'

'Really? Interesting.' Lucius attempted some small talk, but it was a rather pathetic dinner all around. The moment Lucius excused them, Draco scurried away without a word.

By the next day Harry had finished all his assignments, and Lucius invited him to help decorate the tree. Harry felt terrible being out and about while Draco, but he couldn't very well stay with him when Lucius asked him to do something.

Lucius was making slow progress in his work. He had done as much as he could in the Malfoy library, but getting access to the Ministry was proving difficult. He was even having trouble finding the person responsible for muggleborn detection. It didn't seem like there was any sort of proper system in place at all. Maybe the Ministry got their information from Hogwarts. Lucius didn't want to ask Dumbledore for help.

A knock on his door pulled him from his work. He looked up to find Draco peeking into the study. The boys were heading back to Hogwarts tomorrow, and Lucius had hoped Draco would come to him before that.

'Come in, son,' Lucius got up from behind his desk and walked to the small seating area by the fireplace. Draco joined him. He was clearly guilt-ridden, and Lucius hoped perhaps he had gotten through to his son after all. 'Sit.' Draco sat stiffly on the very edge of the sofa.

'I'm sorry,' Draco blurted out to his knees. 'I took the book, and I wrote in it. Someone wrote back and said they wanted to go back to Hogwarts. I was so mad at Granger for beating me and taking Harry away from me! I thought I could steal the book back later and learn all her secrets or something to embarrass her. I didn't know it was really dangerous. I'm sorry I disobeyed you.' Draco sniffed after his hurried speech. Lucius collected his thoughts before he answered.

'I don't know if I can trust you to always obey me, but I do believe you've learnt your lesson. Now, tell me how Granger was taking Harry away.'

'She tried to make friends with him,' Draco muttered. 'But she's a Gryffindor and a muggleborn. Harry can't be friends with her.'

'Draco, you do realise Harry is most likely a muggleborn-'

'But that's different!' Draco interrupted, finally looking up at his father with pleading eyes. 'He's a Malfoy, my brother even. He doesn't know anything about muggleborns and he shouldn't be talking to one.'

'Draco,' Lucius sighed. 'Muggleborns are … a necessary evil,' he tried to explain. 'We must educate them in our ways so that they leave their muggle behaviour behind.' Draco nodded understandingly at this.

'But Granger's too bossy to learn anything from us. She's too muggle,' he muttered stubbornly.

'Are you so sure? In any case, Harry is yours and she can never take him away. I bought him for you didn't I?' Lucius put a finger under his son's chin and forced those pretty young eyes to look at him. They were full of the need to be reassured and convinced. 'Granted, Harry should no better than to associate with Gryffindors and muggleborns in public, but he can't leave. This is his home.'

'But-' Draco bit his lip.

'But?' Lucius prompted.

'I want him to want to stay.'

'Ah. Well, I highly doubt that's a problem. Harry begged me to let him stay when I found the book. He thought I would send him away.'

'Really?' Draco asked hopefully.

'Yes, really. So, stop worrying so much and go upstairs and find him. Have some fun on your last day. Remind him how lucky he is to be here.'

'Yes, Father, I will!' Draco bounced up enthusiastically and then leaned over and kissed his father on the cheek. 'Thank you.' With that he ran away as fast as his legs could carry him. Lucius mulled over how attached the pair really were to one another. Hopefully, they would both learn valuable lessons from each other. Harry of proper etiquette, and Draco a little ethics. This little glimpse into Draco's attachment to Harry reassured Lucius that Draco's personality wasn't going to overwhelm Harry anytime soon. Perhaps they could turn into fine young men even far away at Hogwarts.

But Lucius would be speaking with Harry of this Granger girl, though in his heart he wasn't sure if he could forbid Harry to see the first friend he had ever made on his own.


	12. Freedom

Hello all! A nice long chapter for you all. Please tell me if you liked it! :)

A big thank you to Hidden Lily for her beta-work!

Chapter 11: Freedom

The landscape was wet, but still summer fresh. Harry watched it pensively, wondering what was keeping Draco. He had gone to find his minions, as he called them, some time ago. It seemed to Harry that their relationship had improved since Draco had apologised to his father for the book, but when Lucius refused to lift the Quidditch ban, a tension developed. Harry wasn't sure what to expect now that they were away from home, and Mr. Malfoy's authority.

Harry had been … not scolded, but his relationship with Hermione had been "explained," though he wasn't sure he understood. Lucius had said being friends with her was fine, but to not "advertise the fact" to other students, especially Slytherins. While anti-muggleborn views were officially frowned upon, old prejudices were still very much a part of pureblood culture. What worried Harry was that he couldn't quite figure out which side Lucius was on….

Draco slid the door open and stepped inside, alone, muttering about greedy oafs following the cart. He sat down across from Harry, who continued to stare out the window.

'You can't tell anyone about Granger,' Draco said, nonchalantly taking out a chocolate frog from his pocket. He laid it on the small table between them, still in the wrapping paper, and flattened it with his palm.

'I know,' Harry answered, watching as Draco ripped the paper apart and peeled the frog out, flat and warm from his hand. He bit the head off.

'If you need help with your homework, you know I'll always help you.'

'I know,' Harry said, 'but you've got-' Draco's lips pursed hard, eyes in his lap. 'Thanks,' Harry finished awkwardly. 'I'm really lucky to have you as a … brother.' Draco looked up at the last word, and Harry held his breath. Was it wrong for him to use that word, since it wasn't true? But then Draco's mouth softened and he gave a little smile.

'I know … I guess I'm lucky too, that I got you for my birthday.' They smiled at each other and Harry thought maybe things could be as they were.

XXX

Harry needed not have worried over keeping his friendship with Hermione a secret. There was no friendship. Hermione was tenacious in her avoidance of Harry. She seemed better, though, Harry thought, all things considered. Hopefully the summer had been good to her.

Harry was determined to explain himself, however, so he hid himself in the library and waited there for over an hour in the darkness. Finally, Hermione arrived, book bag filled to overflowing. She started unpacking at her preferred table. Harry waited until she had most of her books laid out, before revealing himself.

She looked up and her eyes filled with betrayal and anger. She immediately started packing her books in. Harry knew he needed to be quick.

'Please, Herm- Miss Granger, will you listen to me?' Harry begged.

'You have nothing to say that I would wish to hear,' she answered stiffly, stuffing the books in as quick as she could.

'I'm sorry I stole the book, but it could have been very dangerous.'

'What would you know about it?'

'Draco stole it from hi- our father's library.' This stopped her dead. She put down the book she was holding; Harry could tell her brain was working overtime, so he finished quickly. 'He knew it was something he should not be playing around with, but he took it anyway. I don't know how, but he slipped the book to you on the train. I had to take it back. Father was very cross, and both of us were punished. He also said we could be friends, but not in public.' At this Hermione snorted softly. She looked both conflicted and resigned. Harry had no idea what was going through her mind.

'Never in public, of course not,' she whispered.

'It's more than I hoped for, truth be told.'

'Indeed, it is most generous of him.' Harry could not decipher her tone. She started packing her books again.

'He cares for my reputation … even though I do not.' Harry said softly. 'But … he's been so kind to me, I can't-' Hermione sighed and finally looked Harry in the eye.

'I am trying to understand, Harry. I want to please my parents too, but sometimes you just have to trust your own judgment. They don't know everything.' She stuffed the final book in her bag, slung it over her shoulder and turned away.

'I need you,' Harry said desperately. 'Please.'

'Maybe. And maybe I need you too,' Hermione said quietly. 'Writing in that book was wrong. It was stupid.' She turned back to face him, her expression soft and sad. 'Thank you for saving me.'

'You can talk to me. You don't need a book,' Harry argued.

'… I'd like that… if you talk to me too.' Harry swallowed.

'Yes, of course.' How much easier was it to lie to Hermione than Lucius Malfoy? Not much, but she couldn't read him as well, and so what if it was easier, in the end? She smiled at him and said she needed a moment alone. Harry left her to study, hoping their friendship would be repaired. Even if he could never tell her anything important about himself.

Harry went back to the Slytherin common room, intent upon going to the dorms and reading in bed until he fell asleep. Draco was there, surrounded by a group of Slytherins, both first, second and third years. An older group was close by, keeping an eye on the new prince, some of them admiring, others calculating.

'Harry! Come join us in a game of Exploding Snap,' Draco called.

'Thank you for the invitation, but I'm awfully tired, and I have some reading to do.'

'Harry, come here and play.' Draco's eyes told Harry clear as day that he would not let Harry go to bed. The other Slytherins were watching the interaction with interest. Harry was confused. Draco had never insisted Harry do anything he didn't want since they were seven or eight. Even then Draco usually relented when he saw how upset Harry was.

'I really shouldn't-'

'Harry, I want you to play with us.' Harry walked over to the group and took his place. Draco dealt the cards, his eyes scrutinizing Harry intently. Every time Harry tried to excuse himself, Draco hinted that it would be quite impossible. The other Slytherins were taking notice, and Harry wondered what was going on. Clearly, Draco was being demonstrative. He had never involved Harry in his power-plays before. Harry had been quite oblivious to the politics in-house. In fact, he considered it something off limits, since he wasn't a true Malfoy.

Finally, at close to ten o'clock, Draco dismissed the players and walked with Harry to their dorm. Crabbe and Goyle were snoring loudly. Zabini went straight for the showers - he never did anything without showering before and after - while Nott had a silencing charm on his bed, as usual.

'Good game,' Draco said, beginning to undress. Harry frowned.

'I will have to read all through breakfast and lunch tomorrow to make up for lost time.'

'You'll do fine. I'll help you, remember?'

'But I still have to read the assigned reading,' Harry explained. Draco pulled on his pyjamas.

'You can't just ignore me like that Harry. Surely you understand how that looks.'

'It was just a game of Exploding Snap!'

'It was not!' Draco snapped. He stalked over to Harry and fixed him with a stern look. 'You must obey me Harry, or else my reputation suffers. I let you have Granger. You must obey me in public … and in private.'

'Of course,' Harry said, looking away.

'We must keep up appearances,' Draco explained patiently, like he had done when Harry had arrived at Malfoy Manor. 'I am becoming very important in Slytherin House, but the Quidditch ban has made things … difficult.'

'Oh,' Harry hadn't thought of that. 'Of course.' Draco nodded, satisfied, and went to bed. Harry did so as well, wondering what his feelings were about the whole situation. But he would help Draco, of course.

Harry continued to display his obedience to Draco in public, and met with Hermione in secret. As the winter lost its harshness, Harry found himself quite content with the whole arrangement. He and Draco had even found some of their old companionship in private. Draco even asked how Hermione was doing, after the whole book mishap. Harry told him she had not suffered any permanent damage.

It was one evening in late February, and Harry was coming back from the library after finishing his Transfiguration essay with Hermione. He rounded the second-to-last corner before the common room and stopped short. A group of Slytherins were waiting for someone. But it wasn't just a random group, it was the Quidditch team.

'Harry! Just the Malfoy we wanted to see,' Marcus Flint cried when they spotted the green-eyes brother. 'Want to come outside and watch us fly?'

'Um, I was heading off to bed, actually.'

'What? But curfew is still an hour away.' Marcus smiled charmingly, or tried to at least. Harry felt uncomfortable, but there was no way to get around them. They were staring at him like a piece of meat. 'Come with us. Hey, we will even let you try a broom.'

'I really don't think-'

'What is going on here?' Harry spun around at the sound of Draco's voice. 'Flint?'

'Don't be difficult, Malfoy,' Flint warned. 'We just want to see if he's any good. Surely, you two must have practiced together on that nice pitch of yours at home. We haven't found a decent seeker among the snakes. We need to examine all our options.'

'No, not him.' Draco walked past Harry and stood between him and Flint.

'That is not for you to decide.'

'Yes, it is. I will be back in the game soon-'

'The match against Gryffindor is three weeks away.'

'You think you can train him in three weeks?' Draco scoffed. 'Fine, try, be my guest.' He turned to Harry. 'Go and fly with them.'

'No, thank you, but-'

'Go,' Draco ordered and stalked away before Harry could answer. He sighed and resigned himself to his fate. He followed the team outside to the pitch.

In truth Harry had not flown since the basic broom training in first year. He had done only what the teacher had said, and they had only flown a few feet, and turned a few times. That was the only course that was obligatory. Draco had told him he didn't need to take the rest, so Harry hadn't.

Now, in the dark with only the magical globes lighting the pitch, his hands felt clammy. He was handed a school broom - the best of the lot - and told to fly a warm-up round. Harry gripped the broom hard enough to make his knuckles white. The others were zooming around him. Harry had always watched Quidditch matches with awe, especially when Draco flew, for he always won. Harry had watched him since they were six years old. He knew every move Draco made on the pitch. But his place had always, always been on the ground.

He mounted the broom and kicked off. For a moment, he wobbled dangerously, having never been so high off the ground. He drifted a little forward, feeling the magic underneath him, in his hands. He leaned forward, thinking about moving forward, and the broom obeyed.

It did exactly as he thought, as he felt, as he moved. He leaned over, pulling the broom up in a rising turn, flying a slow circle around the left goal post. He took a deep breath, realising he had been holding it. The tension drained and the broom sprang to life. Its magic crackled under his skin. He urged it faster and faster, straight across the pitch. He wanted to go higher.

As he rose above the stands, above the other players, he felt pure freedom. It was completely foreign. It was the dream of jumping over the wall come to life. Had he known freedom could feel like this, he would have climbed over on the first day. He flew faster and faster, doing dives and rising quickly, his stomach lurching with each one, but in a good way.

'Malfoy!' Harry looked up and saw Flint release a tiny golden light. It flitted away quicker than Harry could follow with his eyes, but he dove in its general direction.

He caught sight of it quickly enough and the desire to catch it ignited in him. It swung left and right, in between the other players and up and down, but Harry followed, not even thinking about actually controlling the broom. It was more like he was flying alone, or that he was one with the broom. He was close. He reached out and just as the Snitch turned, it flew straight into his hand, as if it belonged there.

He didn't even realise he had stopped and was surrounded by excited Slytherins. He looked up finally, straight into Flint's smirking face.

'Welcome to the team, Malfoy.'

'Oh dear,' Harry whispered, his hand going slack. The Snitch flew out, stopped in front of his face, and then darted away. Flint followed it with his eyes.

'Better go catch that, Malfoy, we'll need it for the match that you are going to win for us.' With that, the rest of the team flew to the ground, gathering the other balls. Harry was left hovering, wondering how this had happened. The feeling of freedom had turned into dread. His broom seemed to understand and slowly drifted down the earth. Draco was there, waiting for him. Harry stared at him, and he stared back.

'Congratulations,' he said finally. 'Enjoy it while it lasts.' He spun on his heel and walked away into the night.

Harry was certain he wouldn't enjoy a moment of it.

XXX

The very next day, Harry got up and discovered Draco already gone. He got dressed and ignored the Slytherins trying to congratulate him. At breakfast, Draco was absent. Harry only nibbled on some toast before deciding to go search for him. Harry would just explain to Draco that he was going to tell Flint no, and that he would help Draco convince Lucius to let him play.

The library was empty, except for Hermione, of course.

'Harry, you're here early,' she said upon spotting him.

'I'm looking for Draco, he's missing, and very angry with me.'

'What did you do? Express your own opinion in front of others?' Hermione returned to her book with deliberate coldness.

'Hermione, please,' Harry said, not wanting to argue with both his friends. She sighed and closed her book.

'I'll help you find him.' Harry was about to protest, but she took his arm and guided him out of the library in a no-nonsense way, and Harry just couldn't help but be grateful.

They made their way to the stairs, but neither of them knew were to go from there. Then-

'Get out of my face, Weasel!' They both looked up, looked at each other and set off at a run.

'I was just looking for your brother, to congratulate him. Trust me, I know all about sibling rivalry. But to be replaced so quickly must hurt. Do you need to cry?'

'I will need to punch your face in if you don't keep your mouth shut!'

Two floors up they found the pair. Ron was smirking triumphantly, and Draco was seething. It was clear they were both seconds away from drawing their wands- make that zero seconds.

Harry wasn't sure who drew first, but they were both quick. Draco got off the first curse, but Weasley was slinging one out before he was hit. Both of them were blown backwards and landed hard on the stone floor. Both made loud groans of pain. Harry ran to Draco, kneeling by his side and checking for damage.

Draco's face was screwed up in pain. He was starting to sweat.

'What did he curse you with?' Harry asked, unsure of how to help without having heard the spells.

'Boils!' Draco gasped out and just then Harry saw them forming - ugly green puss-filled boils on Draco's pale neck, then his face.

'We need to get you to the infirmary,' Harry said, trying to help Draco up.

'No! We'll get detention and lose points!'

'Ronald! You need medical attention!' Harry glanced up at Hermione's shriek. Apparently, the pair had been thinking along the same lines because Ron's face was also covered in spots, though they were red and appeared to be sizzling. Harry grimaced.

'Just- Spell them off!'

'I- I can only do one at a time, maybe,' Hermione frowned. 'Surely you want someone professional-'

'Please,' Ronald pleaded, reaching up and grabbing her shoulder. She sighed, but nodded.

'Let's get you somewhere more comfortable.' She helped him stand. Once she was supporting a fair amount of his weight, she glanced over at Harry. 'You better take him somewhere too. Just pop them, dry them out and spell them clean. I'm sure your brother has some cream to hide any marks.' With that she helped Ronald down the corridor, the boy wincing every time she came into contact with one of his spots. It appeared, however, that he was having some trouble with his ankle, so he bore Hermione's touch with little fuss.

'Come on, Draco, let's get you someplace private so we can get rid of them.'

'Why do you want to help me?' Draco asked suspiciously. 'I thought you were busy playing Quidditch.'

'You're more important,' Harry said simply, and before Draco could answer he grabbed the boy's hands and pulled him up. Draco got up reluctantly. 'Come on, there's bound to be an empty room here somewhere. Hopefully, we can be done before classes start.'

Harry helped Draco with the boils, which were painful to pop and smelled awful. Draco bore it all in silence, studying Harry with something between suspicion and confusion. Draco knew a cover-up charm that would serve until he got back to the dorm. They barely had enough time to run to Defence Against the Dark Arts. As they entered Harry noticed Hermione and Ronald were not there. Neither did they appear by the end of the lesson. Draco sat next to him, surprisingly enough. As the lesson progressed, Draco leaned over to Harry and whispered.

'This doesn't make up for what you did.' Harry froze, took a deep breath and replied:

'They won't want me on the team after I lose the first game.'

'What?' Professor McGonagall shushed them and Draco bowed his head, whispering furiously. 'Do you mean to throw the game?'

'Yes-'

'Are you out of your mind? You can't disgrace the game like that, where's your sense of honour?'

'But-'

'You will play to the best of your abilities, and disgrace neither Quidditch nor the Malfoy name, is that clear?' Harry's head spun, but the look in Draco's eyes left no room for argument.

'Yes, Draco.'

'Good … we will simply have to battle it out once Father sees fit to end his mad torture.'

'It's only a game,' Harry whispered before he could stop himself. 'Hardly torture to miss it. That book, though, might have contained something torturous for all we know, especially considering how Mr- Father reacted.' Draco got a decidedly odd look in his face at this. Whether it was from Harry's arguing, his use of Father, or the argument itself, Harry wasn't sure. Perhaps all three. In any case, Draco shrugged and went back to his work, so Harry considered it a victory.

It wasn't until lunch that Harry saw Hermione again. He was going to the library to see if she was spending the break there, when she came hurrying down the corridor. She was flushed and her eyes looked slightly wild, as if she was afraid someone might jump out and confront her with her most terrible secret.

'Harry!' she exclaimed upon spying him. 'There you are, how is your brother?'

'He's fine, how is Weasley?' Hermione's colour darkened considerably and she looked away with a sharp, indrawn breath.

'He has been set to rights. No permanent damage whatsoever.'

'That's good.' Harry stared as the usually so composed girl wrung her hands in her robes. She appeared even to have left her book-bag somewhere. This was highly unusual.

'Ronald is really quite … nice,' she mumbled suddenly.

'Oh?' Harry said, feeling stung by the comment for some reason.

'Yes, he was quite the gentleman all through the … process of healing,' she explained. 'He even apologised for ever having thought I was bossy or a know-it-all. I think we might be friends now,' she said with some surprise.

'That's nice….' Harry trailed off. She smiled at him.

'But we'll still work together, yes? Ronald isn't terribly fond of book-learning, but he's quite intelligent. He plays chess.'

'Oh.' Harry couldn't really imagine Weasley playing chess. It seemed decidedly out-of-character. They began walking to the library, and Hermione talked more about Ronald's character traits. Harry wasn't sure how to feel about it all.

He felt this had been a very long year, and it wasn't even Easter.


	13. Change on the horizon

Note: I totally forgot to put in Christmas holidays in the previous chapter. I should probably edit that in, but for now just note that it's around April now.

Also, I'm trying to move things alone, so this glosses over a lot of details. Hope the good stuff later makes up for it, but for now, bear with me.

Beta: As always the wonderful Hidden Lily has helped me so much. Thank you.

_Chapter 12: Changes on the horizon _

Harry had never been more nervous in his life, and considering all the nerve-wracking things he'd been through - a new home, a new family, magic and now pretending to be a Malfoy - he thought Quidditch shouldn't really be so bad. It was just a game, right? A stupid game, just like all games were. For Harry, games with more people usually meant he was left out. He liked playing alone with Draco, though. Much less people around then…

And Mr. Malfoy usually didn't show up to their Exploding Snap matches either.

Everyone was eager to see if the youngest Malfoy twin could match his brother in skill.

High above the others, it wasn't so bad, Harry mused, gazing down at the crowd. He changed his mind when he spotted Draco, a tiny speck from Harry's seat in the sky, but Harry was sure he could feel his disappointed stare burning him even from this distance.

Something blinked out of the corner of his eye, and he looked up - only to be spun around as the Ravenclaw seeker whooshed by him. He got his bearings quickly, however, and followed.

As he pursued the other seeker, they travelled in a wide spiral downwards, darting this way and that between the other players. Harry felt the roar of the crowd pounding his eardrums. 'Go Malfoy!' he heard someone yell. 'Harry! Harry!' They should be yelling _Draco_, he thought morosely. He glanced towards the Slytherin stands for half a second. Draco had his arms folded tightly across his chest, but he suddenly put them up in the air, yelling. Harry couldn't hear him, though.

'Watch it!' Harry wobbled, lost several meters of height, but luckily for him the other player had swerved in time, unlike him. He shook his head and focused again, but the seeker and snitch were a long way off. Suddenly, the Ravenclaw raised a hand in triumph and the commentator was announcing their victory. Harry's stomach plummeted. It had been over in a second, it seemed. How had-

'What the hell is the matter with you!' Flint yelled, flying over. 'Where's you head!'

'I-'

'No excuses, thanks,' Flint spat with disgust. 'If you can't handle the game, you're off the team. If you don't get it together we'll take our chances with someone else.' With that he flew away, the other Slytherins flying after him.

Harry drifted down to earth. The crowd was dispersing rapidly, and Mr. Malfoy made his way out onto the pitch. Harry got off his broom, his head bowed.

'That was good for your first game, Harry, you flew well.' Harry couldn't tell if the man was being sarcastic, but he seemed genuine enough. 'You did seem a bit distracted….'

'What the hell was that?' Draco demanded, storming in front of Lucius and into Harry's face. 'You've disgraced the name!'

'Draco!' Lucius snapped. 'It is only a game.'

'Only a game!'

'Yes!' Draco flinched at the hard tone, shifting from angry to pleading immediately.

'But father, we'll lose the Cup! Please, they need me to play.'

'No, I am not convinced you have learned your lesson.'

'But I have!' Draco insisted. Harry, even though he preferred it when he was forgotten in these circumstances, stepped forward.

'Please, let him play, sir. Should the whole House suffer because of Draco's mistake? I can't play this. I- I think Draco's more than sorry for what he did.'

Draco looked as if he wasn't sure if he should thank Harry for supporting him, or be angry at Harry's presumption. He settled for the latter and looked up at his father with pleading puppy-dog eyes. Lucius rolled his own, but nodded his head. Draco whooped, hugged Harry tightly and ran off to tell the team. Harry stared after him, glancing at the broom in his hand, wondering if he had done the right thing. It seemed … a little unfair.

'Are you sure Harry? Did you not like flying?' Lucius asked.

'I-… I loved flying,' Harry said softly. 'I loved it very much.' Lucius smiled, patted Harry on the shoulder and said goodbye. They would see each other come summer. Harry put the borrowed broom away, wondering if he would get to fly again. Oh, well, at least Draco couldn't be angry with him anymore.

XXX

Draco was happy to be back on the team, but sad that he had yet to completely regain his father's trust. It didn't take long for Slytherin to regain the lead and go on to win the Quiddith Cup. Harry was glad everything seemed to be back to normal. But a tiny part of him was still angry at Draco for being so … annoyingly spoiled rotten that he always got his way no matter what!

But that part was small and very soft-spoken.

Harry's exams went well, he even managed to pass Potions without much difficulty. Defense Against the Dark Arts was the exact opposite. Harry knew Draco was brilliant at everything he did, but Harry wasn't quite sure if he should aim for an Outstanding. He toned down his answers just a little, and hoped for the best. The teacher rarely noticed him in class anyway, and Harry preferred to study on his own. It didn't matter if he didn't get the grade to show it, he told himself, as he often did.

Soon his second year at Hogwarts, as a wizard and as a Malfoy, was all over, and both boys were looking forward to a nice summer. And the summer was... interesting. That was really the best word, Harry concluded. It was better in a lot of ways than any summer previously. In others, however, it was uncertain.

One thing that did make the summer stand out was his birthday, or rather, the anniversary of his coming to Malfoy Manor. It was very nice of the Malfoys to celebrate the day as if it was his birthday. This year, after they had eaten a meal together and adjourned to the sitting room, Lucius brought forth a rather long present. Draco was immediately on alert.

'Happy birthday, Harry.'

'Thank you, Sir.' Harry opened the present, but even after the new broom lay in his hands, he could scarcely believe it.

'But he's not on the team anymore!' Draco exclaimed.

'That does not mean he will never fly again. I'm sure Harry would like to fly. Do you not like the gift?'

'I love it, Sir, thank you.' Harry held the broom reverently. Usually, Lucius got him a muggle toy of some sort. He still had the very first doll, tucked away secretly in his school trunk. Sometimes he got new clothes. He was always grateful. This, however, was the first time he had gotten something a young wizard could expect to get.

'Come outside, Harry, let's fly.' Draco grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him along. Even though Draco directed the game, Harry still felt free in the air.

Lucius watched them from the window. He was glad Harry could have fun on this day. The anniversary always reminded him of the awful conditions he had witnessed at the Workhouse. It had improved much since, he knew, but it was never enough in his mind. Just last May there had been another horrible Workhouse scandal at Huddersfield. Conditions there had been even worse than at Andover. Lucius had almost given up on the muggles. They seemed determined to hand each other to the wolves.

However, things in the wizarding government wasn't the paragon of humanity either. Lucius' research had brought him no closer to determining how Hogwarts detected muggleborn children, but he now knew the Ministry detected them through some sort of device at the Department of Mysteries. Apart from their Hogwarts Letters and the occasional visitation by Hogwarts staff to those privileged enough to live at a private residence with parents, there wasn't much the Ministry or anyone did for these children if they didn't show up on September the first.

Lucius sighed, wondering what his next course of action should be. He was very busy with his other affairs, but this matter weighed heavily on his mind. The children's laughter pulled him from his thoughts. He smiled a private smile and went back to his desk. On it lay the day's newspaper and he couldn't help but sneer slightly at the headline. The Weasleys off to Egypt. How sad they hadn't gotten buried in the sand….

XXX

Third year started with a new teacher, a Mister Quirrell, whom Harry did not like. The old Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher had not had any plans to retire, but he had nevertheless done so quite unexpectedly. Luckily, Dumbledore told them all, the new teacher had been quick to offer his services. He seemed incredibly nervous and while Harry kept quiet and learned most on his own, he knew he would be even less eager to answer questions from such a … strange man.

There was also a lot more whispering, Harry thought as they made their way down to the dorms the first night back. Draco ran off almost immediately to find out what the excitement was about. Harry went to bed, but he hadn't fallen asleep when his curtains were ripped apart.

'Harry,' Draco whispered. 'You awake?'

'Yeah.' Draco took that as permission and crawled into the bed. Harry sat up, surprised by the sudden intimacy. Draco pulled the curtains behind him and sat crossed-legged beside Harry. 'Guess what the masses are talking about.'

'I really have no idea,' Harry said, sitting up a little. He lighted his own wand so Draco's light didn't glare at him so fiercely. They put them beside each other on the covers.

'There's been a prisoner escape from Azkaban,' Draco whispered, clearly impressed by such a feat.

'Escape?' Harry had heard of Azkaban of course, but it was suppose to be impossible to escape from there. 'Who?'

'Sirius Black!' Draco revealed. Harry frowned. The name rang a ball, he was sure. Draco noted his confusion and rolled his eyes. 'The man who betrayed the Potters. The last people to be killed by the Dark Lord before his disappearance.' Harry got a sick feeling in his stomach; he didn't like to think about the Dark Lord. Lucius never let them talk about it, and Harry wouldn't know anything about it if not for the other boys in Slytherins who delighted in telling horrible stories late at night. 'They say he's gone completely insane, and that he might go on a crazy killing spree again.'

'Let's go to sleep, Draco, I don't want to talk about it.' Harry lay back down and pulled the covers up to his chin. Draco looked at him seriously for a moment, and then nodded. He lay down right beside Harry, causing the other boy to frown in confusion.

'My bed is cold. It hasn't been slept in for months,' Draco grumbled, getting under the covers. 'Ah, you're already warm.' Harry did feel very warm, but it was a nice warm, he supposed, once Draco had found a good spot and closed his eyes. Harry quickly drifted off to sleep himself, and the expected nightmares of dark prisons never came.

XXX

_A few months earlier, somewhere on the British Isles. _

Voldemort's spirit, having transformed itself into a parasitic life form on the back of Mr. Quirrell's head, was desperately searching for a way to become a true immortal - without the obvious drawbacks that vampirism brought. To that end, he had his host search constantly for a man rumored to have created the legendary Philosopher's Stone.

'He i-is not at ho-home, Milord,' Quirrell stuttered, having ransacked the man's country estate. He unwrapped his turban slowly. 'I found some notes. I be-believe he has left f-for the jungle.'

'Where?' the voice was barely audible, a horrible gasping sound, like a dying animal.

'South America, I believe.'

'He has taken … the stone….'

'I-I … I believe so, Milord.' Suddenly, Quirrell let out a shriek of pain and fell forwards, clutching at the back of his head. He spasmed like a fish out of water for several minutes. Finally, he lay still except for his heaving chest.

'There is still … Dumbledore…' The alien voice breathed. 'He may be keeping it safe for his good friend's return … we go to Hogwarts.'

'Y-yes, Mi-milord.'

XXX


	14. Sirius Black

Beta: hidden_lily Thanks so much for your hard work :)

Note: Thank you to everyone who is still interested in this story!

Hello all! Here I am with an extra long chapter to make up for the long wait between posts. Enjoy!

Chapter 13: Sirius Black

Lucius strode confidently down the Atrium at the Ministry of Magic. He had been making headway in his plans to modernize the detection and handling of muggle-born children. Not much, he had to admit, but with his new close friends in the right committees, he was certain he would soon gleam the necessary information and be able to softly recommend the right course of action.

His brows furrowed slightly when whispering accompanied his walk. Usually, this was completely normal, as his presence inspired gossip, but this whispering seemed more subdued, as if they truly didn't want him to overhear.

It was when he unmistakably heard the name 'Harry' that the gossip was at least partially explained to him. Murmurings about the sudden return of his second son was hardly knew, but generally the talk would centre around what Lucius was going to do now that the twins were reunited and the Malfoy Estate had to be divided – the precise reason for their separation in the first place, or so Lucius had led everyone believe.

He had of course taken this into account. Harry would simply wave all rights to inherit – there would be no brotherly feud at all, for Harry of course wasn't a brother. Lucius would provide for the boy, certainly, and make sure he got a good job, out of the way from Draco's prominent career.

Back to the whisperings. Lucius got the distinct impression they were discussing Narcissa. Her name had been banned from his presence, yet people still had the gall to speak of her where he might overhear? This needed investigating.

It took him only a couple of conversations with key persons of interest to find the necessary information. Apparently, someone had heard that Narcissa was on a private "therapy island" off the coast of Italy (an unplottable one) and therefore could not have been taking care of a second child. The gossipers had in no time at all come up with a theory: Harry wasn't Narcissa's child, but a bastard. This, of course, was hardly new in the wizarding world, but the question everyone was whispering about now was why an economically-minded person like Lucius Malfoy would have his bastard child pretend to be the twin of his rightful heir. It seemed ludicrously generous to even the most giving of fathers.

Lucius pondered how to go about squashing these rumours, but then again, perhaps he could just let them simmer on their own? Even an influential person such as himself couldn't stop idle gossip, so perhaps the best course of action was simply to let them believe what they would, until such time came when Harry was discreetly placed somewhere where nobody paid him any mind.

Yes, Lucius decided, quite satisfied, he would instruct Draco on his plan in his next letter. Harry would also need to be told to ignore all questions directed at him.

Lucius Malfoy felt no guilt over his future treatment of the magical child in his care – he had rescued the boy from a horrible fate after all – why should he feel anything more than satisfied with the way things were turning out?

XXX

Harry was nervous the first day of classes. He had Defence Against the Dark Arts right after lunch. The turban-headed man smelled horribly of garlic, and had a stuttering demeanour Harry had no sympathy for. He seemed more nervous than the students!

It was during the first lesson Harry felt a strange headache come over him, focused right underneath the skin on his forehead. He rubbed it absently and glanced up, certain someone was watching him. Sure enough, Professor Quirrell was staring at him oddly. Harry swallowed heavily, wondering if he had perhaps missed a question directed at him, but the man turned away without comment. Harry frowned, rubbing at his forehead.

'Why are you rubbing your scar?' Draco asked, leaning over to whisper at him.

'I am?' Harry asked, feeling uneasy with the strange stinging sensation. 'I have a headache.'

'I have a potion in my trunk, we can get it after class,' Draco promised. Harry nodded and thanked him, trying to go back to the lesson.

After class, however, his headache was gone and both he and Draco forgot about the potion. They went to their next class with the rest of the Slytherins, meeting up with the Gryffindors outside. They were whispering, gossiping about Sirius Black, a subject that seemed inexhaustible to the students.

'I heard he's killing his way across the country-side, but the Ministry has been keeping it a secret so as not to excite the public into a panic,' one of the girl Gryffindors proclaimed, whose father worked in the Department of Magical Transportation. Draco took smug delight in dismissing her claims.

'My father is more informed than a Portkey-inspector,' he told the girl and the crowd who had gathered. 'And he told me in his last letter that Sirius Black is a raving lunatic, not well enough to cast the simplest lumos to find his way. Most likely he'll be captured by muggles before the week is out.'

'If he's so mad, then how did he escape?' the girl retorted. Draco surveyed the crowd, narrowing his eyes at the murmurings.

'Well, as my father has lamented on many occasions that the security at Azkaban has been in decline. It wouldn't surprise me if they just forgot to close the door!' Many people sniggered at this and agreed, sending the girl into a huff.

'You're father doesn't know everything, Malfoy,' Ron Weasley spat, stepping out from the crowd. Harry tensed, waiting for a fight and not knowing how or when he should intervene, but luckily, he didn't have to-

'None of us know enough,' Hermione spoke up, grabbing Ron's elbow and pulling him towards her. She cast a warning glare at Draco. 'The only thing we know is that we are all perfectly safe inside Hogwarts and speculation is a futile endeavour. Let's get to class, Ron.' Harry caught her eye and they shared a commiserating glance. He breathed a sigh of relief while Draco huffed something he failed to catch.

After classes Harry went to meet Hermione in the library, while Draco held court in Slytherin. He was becoming quite the leader of the house, Harry thought with a smile. Even the upper years were all paying close attention to the little third year. But he also didn't argue with Harry about going to the library, although he did sent Harry a rather cryptic look just as he left, as if to say "watch yourself."

'Harry, good to see you,' Hermione said as the pair met at their usual table.

'Good to see you too,' Harry replied. 'Did you have a good summer?'

'Yes, we spent the whole summer in the country with some relatives,' Hermione told him. 'It was quite refreshing … but I missed Hogwarts.'

'Oh?' For Harry it was the opposite. He missed Malfoy Manor where he didn't have to pretend he was someone above his station. He didn't have to constantly make sure he addressed people in the right manner. At home, he was just Harry, a muggle boy fortunate enough to be rescued from that horrid place.

'Yes, I'm beginning to realise how lucky I am to be here,' Hermione explained as they got out their books. 'At home, I am just a girl, waiting for her debut into society so she can find a husband, or - my looks and dowry failing - a position as a governess if I'm lucky.' Harry frowned. He didn't really understand life in the muggle world outside the workhouse, but he knew enough to understand the difference between men and women there.

'But here,' Hermione continued, 'here I am free just like a man, and I accept it, no, I crave it now. My intellect will not go to waste. I can be what I want to be.'

'Yes, you can,' Harry said quietly, wondering about his own future. What would happen when they finished Hogwarts and Draco was all grown up. He wouldn't need Harry anymore, but then again, Harry would be a wizard all on his own, and a Malfoy in the eyes of the world. What on earth would become of him?

'What do you want to be?' Hermione asked. 'I mean … does your father expect you to carry on the family tradition? Won't your brother do that … he seems more likely to do so … what do you want?'

'I … I don't know. I suppose Draco will continue the-… family tradition. I'm not sure what's planned for me.'

'Planned?' Hermione frowned. 'But what if you could do anything? What then?'

'I suppose …' Harry thought about what he liked most about magic, about the wizarding world, about his studies … he thought hard about his skills and interests, and slowly came to a conclusion. 'If I could do anything I wanted,' though that was unlikely, he knew, he added silently, 'I should think I would like to be an … Auror.'

'Really? Well, that is a noble profession,' Hermione said admiringly, 'and you are best at Defence, no doubt.' Hermione knew this from their studies together. 'And you have a good sense of right and wrong. I think you would make a marvelous Auror.'

'Truly?'

'Yes, absolutely,' Hermione smiled. Harry smiled back and they started the year's study, going over what they had done during the summer.

'Did you hear about the Weasleys' trip to Egypt?' Hermione asked after a good half hour of study. 'They were in the paper.' She sounded impressed. 'Ron's told me all about it in his letters.'

'Yes, I think I glanced at it,' Harry replied. 'The-… Father says he wants to take us to the chateau in France, but it needs refurbishing first. We have to wait for the house elves to be replenished. Apparently, they'll be a new dozen by next summer, so we might go then.'

'Oh,' Hermione looked vaguely horrified, but Harry couldn't possibly understand why. 'That sounds … wonderful.' Why was she so tense, like she wanted to say something? Harry frowned. He supposed he had sounded a little … spoiled. He just wanted Hermione to know he was worldly too, or would be.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound … I lived under quite simple conditions with my mother, and I've never been to a chateau.'

'You did?' Hermione asked, referring to his early childhood. Harry nodded; it was as close to the truth as he could get. 'Oh, well, be sure to write and tell me all about it.' With that they went back to their work.

XXX

Professor Quirrell sipped his soup delicately, glancing over at the Headmaster for perhaps the hundredth time that evening. He looked no more nervous than usual, which was still fairly nervous. As he tried to put his spoon down casually, the utensil clinked against the bowl. Luckily, the noise in the Great Hall was loud enough to obscure the sound.

'H-Headmaster, may I ask you ... a question?' Qurriell inquired softly. Dumbledore looked up from his dinner, leaning forward slightly to look past Professor McGonagall.

'What was that, Professor?' he asked kindly.

'I was just-... what with all the reports on Ss-Sirius Black's escape, I was curious about the school's p-protections.'

'You needn't spare any worry on that subject, Professor,' Dumbledore informed him. 'The school is quite safe from any intruder, even one so tenacious as Black.'

'Quite, quite,' Qurriell mumbled, distraught that his line of questioning had come to naught. 'So, you would argue this is the safest place...'

'In all of Britain, at the very least my friend,' Dumbledore said confidently, going back to his soup. McGonagall cleared her throat when Qurriell moved forward to ask more, so he stopped and returned to his own sustenance forlornly.

Afterwards, he hurried back to his rooms, and he had no sooner closed the door before he cried out, his hands desperately clawing at the turban upon his head. Falling to his knees, he leaned forward, pulling the cloth off and heaving a great breath.

'Master, forgive me!' he cried. The horse and terrible voice was like ice to his veins.

'You imbecile! You will never get any information by your fumbling attempts at interrogation!'

'I'm sorry, Master. The Headmaster trusts no one, why would he tell me of the stone?'

'Fool! Of course he will not tell you directly. I need only to know if it might be here.'

'Surely, if he's hidden it, it might be in his rooms.'

'Most likely,' the voice grew pensive and the pain in Quirrell's head subsided.

'Perhaps we should employ Sirius Black, if he can escape from Azkaban-'

'Silence! You know nothing, you fool,' the voice hissed. 'Sirius Black is a rampaging lunatic, nothing more. His escape was pure coincidence and luck.'

'So he knows not of your return?'

'He does not care, as he was never in my employ.'

'B-but did he not-'

'Silence, I will hear no more of Sirius Black. He is nothing.' Quirrell was thankful for the silence and lay down on the floor completely, waiting while his master thought. 'The boy ... he is a strange entity.'

'What boy, master?'

'The Malfoy child! Lucius hid him from me, which is disturbing, but the man's first concern has always been his finances. The thought of twins must have been horrid to him. But now the boy is here, brought back to attend Hogwarts for some reason. It is ... perplexing.'

'Surely, he would want the best education for his son-'

'A twin only brings complications, Estates cannot be divided. Lucius cares for nothing else... But the boy, he draws me. There is something special about him.'

'What, My Lord?'

'I do not yet know, but I will discover it.'

XXX

The autumn passed without incident, though fantastical rumours about Sirius Black persisted. Harry kept quiet in his classes and studied rigorously with Hermione instead, they way he had always preferred. Draco let him have his study-time twice a week, but otherwise insisted Harry stay close with him, which Harry thought a fair trade, since he liked spending time with him as much as Hermione. He noticed the girl often sat next to Weasley in classes now, and Harry tried not to begrudge her a new friendship. Weasley would occasionally cast glares in Harry's direction, but he didn't engage in open hostility with either Harry or Draco. In fact, the first term was shaping up to be a rather boring year, just the way Harry preferred.

For the holidays they had a traditional Malfoy Family Christmas. Lucius deliberately kept all newspapers out of sight, and Harry wondered if the murderer Sirius Black had killed again. His suspicions were practically confirmed when Lucius withdrew their permission slips for Hogsmeade. The excursions to the wizarding town had been very welcome, and both boys had felt a sense of responsibility at being allowed outside Hogwarts on their own. Now Draco was in an uproar, but Lucius would not explain his decision.

It was barely two weeks after returning to Hogwarts that Harry was awakened with news that would change the year into a very eventful one indeed….

'Harry! Harry! Wake up now!' Harry was shaken awake very violently. He blinked up into a bright lumos above him. Draco was hovering over him, his worried face full of lines Harry was sure he had never seen before. 'You were having a nightmare,' Draco explained unnecessarily. 'It seemed real bad ... was it about ... the workhouse?' Draco whispered the name very quietly, glancing at the curtains.

'No,' Harry said. 'It was ... different. There was this great green flash, and a woman was screaming.'

'Oh,' Draco said, unsure of what to say. 'It's time to get up anyway. Come on.' The pair got out of bed – Draco had been sneaking into his bed quite a few times during the months they'd been back at Hogwarts. Harry thought it was nice; it gave them the opportunity to speak privately like they did back home.

'Guess what!' Blaise said as he bounded suddenly into the dormitory. He had already been up and about by the looks of him, and he was eager to share the gossip. 'Sirius Black has been spotted in Hogsmeade!' Harry couldn't help the gasp that escaped him. A mass-murderer only just off the grounds of Hogwarts.

'And where did you get this information from?' Draco inquired with a raised eyebrow.

'From this mornings papers,' Blaise retorted confidently. Draco's other eyebrow rose to meet its twin, and he glanced at Harry.

'Well, it's not as if he's getting in here,' he declared, pulling on his robe. 'But I'm sure the Hufflepuffs will be terrified, and the Gryffindors drooling for a fight. The Ravenclaws will be the only ones left coherent, so it will no doubt be a boring day.' Harry smiled at Draco's wit, but Blaise only rolled his eyes, clearly disgruntled that his news had failed to excite them. The three of them went up together and sure enough, the whole school was in quite an uproar. Dumbledore took the podium just as Harry and Draco sat down. The school fell silent.

'Please calm down everyone,' he told the masses. 'The reports on Sirius Black's whereabouts are unconfirmed, and he has apparently just been sighted in Diagon Alley as well. Of course, we should be vigilant and keep inside and away from the Forbidden Forest and Hogwarts' borders until further notice. Care of Magical Creatures will be held on the fifth floor classroom until further notice. Quidditch practices I am afraid will have to be cancelled.' With that announcement, Dumbledore sat down.

'Ridiculous,' Draco huffed. 'I need my fresh air, and I am not letting Gryffindor take the cup just because some senile old witch thought she saw something.'

'How do you know-'

'Harry, please, why would he come here, where it's impossible to get in, when he could be rampaging around London at this very moment? Be reasonable.'

'But you're not going outside?' Harry asked, worried despite Draco's logic.

'Like I said, the roaring beasts are not getting an advantage.' Harry went back to his food, but he had no appetite.

By the time the sun had set, Draco had planned his escape out to the Quidditch pitch. Most of the Slytherins agreed, not wanting to appear cowards despite their hatred of Gryffindors. Harry had decided to come as well, to watch Draco fly of course. As they flew Harry walked around the pitch, keeping a close watch on the Forbidden Forest in the darkness and his wand out. It was cold, but Harry's new winter cloak - a Christmas present - kept him magically warm and shielded against the elements.

Suddenly, he heard a twig snap and he spun around. 'Lumos!' he cried into the darkness. The only light this far from the castle was the Quiddith stadium, but the spotlight there were so focused on the pitch itself that it gave little light to the surrounding area, and the contrast with the bright pitch and the darkness outside was sharp.

Harry's wand-light cast a long beam of light in front of him, but it wasn't enough to properly reach the forest. It seemed to him as if the darkness came from the forest itself and was eating up the light.

Just then, Hermione stepped out into the light and Harry heaved a huge sigh of relief.

'What are you doing here?' he asked.

'I could ask you the very same question,' she countered. 'We should both be inside.'

'Did you come out here to ... protect me?' Harry asked, a slight tease in his voice. Hermione flushed, rolling her eyes at his comment, but by her flush Harry was certain he had hit the mark and felt rather touched.

'I am merely looking out for a friend. I know you're up to something when you leave the library with such a dubious explanation.'

'So you risk your own life coming out here? Well, that certainly proves you are a Gryffindor,' Harry commented. His comment was not received well.

'And what does your stupidity prove?' Hermione asked. She glanced at the Forbidden Forest abruptly. 'Did your hear-'

The pair spun around abruptly when they heard unmistakable footsteps. Harry held his breath, wand raised. He grabbed Hermione and pulled her behind him.

Ronald Weasley stepped into the light.

'Merlin's beard! You scared us!' Harry cried.

'You shouldn't be out here,' Weasley growled. 'Hermione, we should go inside. Now. Come.'

'I am not some woman you can just order about!' Hermione declared.

'What?' Weasley looked genuinely confused. He jerked suddenly, and something odd moved within his robes, Harry was sure of it. Weasley reached inside his pocket and pulled out a rat. Harry thought it was disgusting. 'Scabbers, what's gotten into you lately? I have to keep carrying him or else he runs away.' The redhead grumbled irritably before focusing on Hermione once more. 'You shouldn't even be friends with his lot. A Slytherin and a Malfoy.'

'What did I ever do to you, Weasley? Apart from helping to defend my brother, which I even apologised for!' Harry couldn't understand what the boy's problem was. He knew the Malfoy's weren't perfect – he understood their view on mudbloods wasn't right – but he couldn't just allow Weasley to insult them.

'Come on,' Weasley insisted, ignoring Harry. The rat squeaked loudly, wriggling as if to get out of its' master's grasp. 'OW!' Bitten by his own pet, Harry thought a little smugly. Weasley dropped the rat just as the three heard something- a growl? There were cheers from the Quidditch pitch; the Slytherins were congratulating each other on a good practice. Harry couldn't hear-

Then, something was running, no, pounding towards them in the darkness. Hermione gasped and started backing up. Harry couldn't be sure of where it was coming from. The rat was scampering away, but the three humans were frozen in fear. The sound grew louder and louder, four feet, an animal of some sort, thought Harry. Not Sirius Black then, but some beast from the Forbidden Forest. It had only been a few seconds since it started, but it had felt like an eternity.

'Lumos, Hermione!' Harry cried. Hermione obeyed despite her fear and held her wand aloft as Harry pointed his in the beast's direction. Weasley followed suit. A great black dog jumped into the light. It stopped dead upon spotting them, tilting his head as if to contemplate which to eat first.

Harry reacted instinctively: he jumped to the side, away from the two Gryffindors. 'Over here!' he yelled, waving his arms. The dog seemed to stare at him with a strange intensity. Harry got a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. Then the dog started approaching, and Harry ran for it, hoping it would follow.

As "luck" would have it, the dog followed, almost matching Harry's pace. Harry was sure it would only be a matter of seconds before the beast was upon him, but he made it all the way to the courtyard and still the dog was a good way behind him, as if it wanted to prolong the chase. He hoped he remembered his Defense spells now, in his hour of need. He reached the large statue of some old wizard - Harry had never read the plaque - and an idea struck him. He quickly cast a splitting spell at the statue's base. The stone cracked quite a bit, but not enough to topple it. Harry turned. The dog was approaching, slowly now, as if it wouldn't be tricked. Suddenly it sniffed loudly and turned right, sniffing along the edge of the courtyard. Harry quickly moved behind the statue, watching as the dog sniffed this way and that. What was it doing? Harry heard a squeak suddenly and turned his head towards the entrance. The rat, Scabbers, was desperately clawing at a tiny crack in the door. It managed to just squeeze its body through and disappear.

Just then the dog barked, the sound so loud it hurt Harry's ears. It bounded forwards, towards the door, and Harry made ready. Just as the dog passed in front of the statue Harry shot another splitting spell and blasting spell in quick succession. He had only practiced quick spell-casting with Hermione, never in the classroom, but his quick reflexes had served him well, as they did now. The statue's base cracked, and a split-second later the blasting spell shot it off its base and straight into the dog with surprising force.

The dog lay crushed under the statue a few feet away; it looked as if the statue had squashed its middle completely flat. It panted for only a few seconds before going still. Harry came closer, curious and full of adrenaline still, his hands shaking.

People started pouring out of the entrance, the large boom having drawn them out. Harry watched with the growing crowd as the large dog slowly transformed. A great collective gasp was heard as the body of a man replaced the dog. Harry felt his insides turn to stone, as if he had replaced the statue, killing the dog himself- no, the man-

'Harry!' Hermione cried, running past the scene and hugging Harry. 'Are you all- Oh!' She finally saw the body. Harry felt as shocked as she looked.

'Harry!' The same scene played out. Draco ran to his brother, embraced him, and then noticed the body. 'Did- are you all right?' he asked, staring with horror at the dead body.

'I'm not hurt,' Harry replied. Draco did not seem to like the answer. He took hold of Harry's chin and forced him to meet his eyes.

'Let's go inside.' Draco pulled him away. The teachers were directing the students back to their dormitories. Headmaster Dumbledore was suddenly there and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. He guided both twins up to his office. Once inside, he bade them take a seat and Draco answered by stuffing them both in one big armchair, still holding Harry close. The Headmaster offered them tea, Harry presumed, because Draco suddenly put a cup in his hand. He tried drinking, but his shaking had not abated enough. Draco took the cup back. 'Harry, please say something?' Draco whispered.

'I'm fine. It was just … it was a man….' Harry whispered. Draco hugged him even more tightly, burying his head in Harry's neck. It made Harry feel a little bit better, knowing Draco still wanted to be near him.

'It wasn't just any man,' Dumbledore informed them. The pair looked up at him with wide eyes. 'It was Sirius Black.'

'I killed Sirius Black?' He should feel better knowing that, Harry supposed, since he had killed a murderer, but somehow he only felt terrible, terrible dread.


	15. Juggling Plots

Hey all, sorry for the loooong wait. I've been trying to coordinate a lot of plot points and I'm not one hundred precent sure I managed it (hence the title of the chapter), but my brilliant beta Hidden Lily said it was easy to follow so I hope you all enjoy it!

Chapter 14: Juggling Plots

'I killed Sirius Black?' The idea seemed quite ludicrous to Harry, who had not truly believed the infamous murderer to be anywhere near Hogwarts. Why had he come all this way to a highly protected school when he could be rampaging around wherever he chose? It did not seem like the actions of a madman.

'Yes, I am afraid so, but you must not feel guilt, young Harry, your actions were necessary, you were in fear for your life.'

'Yes,' Harry agreed, latching on to that small comfort. 'But I'm still a murderer.'

'No!' Draco yelled, causing Harry to jump slightly. 'You are no such thing! Sirius Black is the murderer, not you. He could have killed you!' Draco hugged Harry closer, shivering slightly.

'But why?' Harry asked no one in particular. 'The dog … it seemed distracted, or maybe he was toying with me … I don't understand.'

'It has been a difficult night. I will contact your father at once, but you should go with Madam Pomfrey to the hospital wing and get some rest.' Neither one of the boys had noticed the Healer entering the office, but they got up at the Headmasters suggestion and followed her down. She checked Harry over for injuries, found none, and let the boys share a hospital bed in the back, curtains keeping even the moonlight out. Harry couldn't sleep, going over the events again and again.

'Harry?'

'Yes?'

'I could have lost you,' Draco whispered. Harry hugged him, his eyes prickling at the thought of leaving his companion.

'I'm not going anywhere.'

'Not ever, right?' Draco insisted. Harry paused. Lucius had told him once that when Draco had outgrown his playmate, Harry would go back to the muggle world. Now he was a wizard, yet he had always assumed that once they were grown-up they would go their separate ways. 'Harry?'

'I won't go unless you tell me to,' Harry promised.

'Good,' Draco said, snuggling down for sleep. 'Your my…' Harry never caught the last word as the boy fell asleep in his arms. Harry wondered what Draco had been about to say. My friend? My plaything? My brother? Harry didn't think it had been any of those, in truth.

He had killed a murderer, a raging madman. An Animagus, according to Madam Pomfrey. That's how he had escaped, they thought. No one had said why he had attacked, which was what Harry wished to know most of all. He couldn't stop thinking about it; what was going through the man's head as he had leapt towards Harry, Hermione and Ron? Just mindless violence, maybe? Had he chosen Harry, or had his animal instincts simply followed the loudest and most appealing meal? Why him? He didn't want to ask anyone, though, for fear of the answer. Perhaps the man had known, a tiny whisper inside his mind hissed. Perhaps Sirius Black had smelled his lie, his true blood, and had come to spill it all to prove it was far from the Malfoy's purity. That was just a strange nightmare, though, flitting through his mind in a restless sleep.

When the pair awoke, Lucius Malfoy was sitting by their bed, looking very serious and concerned. Harry sat up slowly, while Draco got up and hugged his father.

'How are you feeling, Harry?' Lucius said as he let go of his son.

'Fine, Sir.'

'The truth, if you please, Harry.'

'I … I don't know,' Harry said honestly. Lucius nodded and to Harry's surprise he got up and leaned over the bed for a hug. Lucius didn't hug often, so Harry relished in it for those few seconds, and felt a little better. 'I have spoken with the Headmaster and the Minister himself. They agree that considering the man in question, you can give your statement to the Headmaster later. You can come home today if you want, take some time off before going back to school.'

'No, I want to stay here, with Draco.'

'I thought so, but if the students bother you, you can always come home for awhile.' Harry nodded, and felt Draco squeeze his hand.

'Thank you, Sir.'

'Could you tell me what happened, Harry? Everything?' Harry could not refuse, so he told Lucius everything he remembered.

XXX

Lucius took the long walk home so he could avoid the Headmaster's office. He had much to think about. Sirius Black escaping was incredible in itself, but why had man gone straight to Hogwarts of all places? To kill Dumbledore; that had been Lucius' first conclusion. Then again, how could a man smart enough to escape Azkaban be dumb enough to think he could kill a man Voldemort himself feared? Inside his fortress no less?

Then to reveal himself to three students after months of hiding in the forests and mountains around Hogsmeade somewhere. Why?

If one believed Harry's tale it seemed almost as if he had wanted something specific. Like he wanted to kill Harry, but didn't care about the others.

Lucius admitted freely that he had been in denial about Harry's origins. He had wanted to be able to pretend that perhaps Harry had come from a wizarding family, and that he had simply ended up at a muggle Workhouse through … extenuating circumstances.

But with Sirius Black chasing after his muggleborn charge, Lucius felt compelled to find out every truth there was to know about Harry Patton. Perhaps Sirius had mistaken the boy - that was a possibility. It could mean nothing. Most likely it was nothing. Nevertheless, the dog's actions were enough to prompt Lucius into doing something he should have done the day Harry's Hogwarts letter arrived.

He exchanged his clothes for muggle ones the moment he came home, and headed straight for the Workhouse.

XXX

Dumbledore was very troubled. Sirius Black had almost killed Harry Potter. How could the man have known Harry was here? It was impossible for him to have known, yet the dog had gone straight for the young wizard. Dumbledore had brought the child back to his office to question, but his story didn't explain things any better: the dog had jumped out, Harry had shouted for it to follow him and the dog had immediately done so. Harry had shot the statue with the curses and then the dog had run past just as Harry had toppled it over. He had mentioned the dog sniffing, looking for something, but Dumbledore couldn't be sure of Harry's recollection and he was loathed to force a pensive extraction on such a young child.

One thing was certain: if Sirius Black had known, who else? Perhaps even Lucius Malfoy all along? Dumbledore knew he couldn't underestimate the man. He wouldn't make any decision quite yet, but the time was drawing closer for Harry to leave the care of the Malfoys.

XXX

'Master?'

'Be silent! I must think.'

'Yes, Master.' Quirrell tried to suppress his sudden coughing, but was unable to. He doubled over in pain, his ghastly white hand gripping the bedpost. The sweaty grip caused him to slip and fall to the floor.

'Quirrell, you imbecile! Wake up at once! Get up!' The Professor struggled to stand, but managed slowly to crawl up on the bed and lie on his stomach. For a long moment both were silent. The man's breathing slowed and finally he spoke softly.

'Forgive me, Master, I am so tired.'

'You will rest soon,' Voldemort soothed, though his voice was still a hiss. 'I must find the significance of Harry Malfoy and Sirius Black.'

'What do you mean, My Lord?'

'Azkaban may have made him mad, so perhaps he was merely following his animal instincts, but I believe there is more. The child draws me. Black saw something in him.'

'What should I do?'

'Nothing…. Your use has soon expired. The stone is not here, I am sure of that now and we waste time with searching. Flamel has it with him, it is lost to us. We will leave Hogwarts before you grow too weak to sustain us. We must go to Riddle Manor. I must be in my laboratory once more. There the answer will lie. Harry Malfoy will have to wait.'

'Yes, Master.' Quirrell would beg Dumbledore to let him leave his post earlier than expected due to his health. The Headmaster reluctantly agreed, and arranged several teachers to share in the classes until the end of term.

XXX

For several weeks Harry stayed close to Draco. After the horrible incident both boys instinctively drew closer to each other. Harry needed the comfort of knowing Draco felt no different towards him, while Draco needed to assure himself that Harry was alive and well. It was because of this that Hermione felt the need to confront Harry outside of the library. They had just exited the Defence classroom, this one taught by Professor McGonagall after Professor Quirrell's sudden departure. Not that Harry was very sorry; he had found the man very distasteful. Harry and Draco were the last to leave.

'Harry.' Both boys spun around at Hermione's call. She stood with her books clutched to her chest, more in her bag, and a worried expression on her face. 'Are you all right? You weren't in the library the other day. I was worried about you.' Before Harry could answer and apologise for his absence, Draco stepped forwards and addressed her.

'Bugger off, mudblood, he doesn't need you right now.'

'Draco!' Harry cried, scandalised. He grabbed Draco's shoulder and spun him around. 'Don't say that!'

'You can't hang around her anymore,' Draco declared. 'She'll get you into more trouble.'

'You're the one who got me into trouble,' Harry pointed out. 'If I hadn't been watching your Quidditch, then none of it would have happened!' He regretted saying it instantly as he watched Draco's face transform from angry to blank nothingness.

'Fine, be with her then.' He tried to push past, but Harry wouldn't let him.

'Stop it,' he begged, lowering his voice. 'I'm sorry.'

'I'll talk to you later, Harry,' Hermione said abruptly, hurrying past the pair and round the corner. Draco yanked himself out of Harry's grip.

'She should know better, that mudblood,' he muttered, but Harry heard him.

'That is enough,' he said, feeling the hole of dread inside him widen enough to consume him if he wasn't careful. He shouldn't be saying such things, yet his mouth refused to listen.

'What did you say?' Draco asked incredulously. They stood facing each other, the distant footsteps of students creating a strange deepening beat, as if counting down to something.

'I said that is enough,' Harry repeated. 'Can't you hear yourself, Draco? Calling her mudblood? You asked me to stay with you forever, and I will, but how can you stand it? How can you keep hanging around a mud-'

'Don't!' Draco leapt forward and covered the boy's mouth with his hand, the other holding the back of Harry's head. 'You can't say such things here!' he hissed angrily. 'The walls have ears!' Harry struggled free, finally pushing Draco forcibly away.

'Hang the walls! You know it's true as well as I. I lived in a muggle Workhouse until I was six, and though I have no memory of my real parents, the fact remains: they were muggles!'

'You don't know that. Let's not discuss it.'

'We have to discuss it,' Harry insisted, pleading with Draco, who looked away. 'No wizarding family would leave a child there. It wasn't fit for dogs,' Harry whispered the last part, looking away himself and missed the pained look that crossed Draco's features. 'I am a mudblood, and that's fine. If you want to call me that and shun me, I will accept that. I understand it even, but I can't stay with you if you continue to be disgusted by me.'

'I'm no such thing!' Draco hissed.

'You are! Either that or you can't see the truth.' That was worse, Harry knew, for a Slytherin to deceive himself.

'Mudbloods are ignorant, cultureless plebians. You are a Malfoy.'

'Mudbloods are muggleborns, as am I. You can't change the definition to suit your needs, Draco,' Harry shook his head. His chest was hurting, but he could stand it going unsaid no longer. Sirius Black had gone after the three of them because they were mudbloods all, Harry had concluded silently after weeks of consideration, of nightmares. He had been one of Voldemort's greatest followers and had come to Hogwarts to rid the world of the next generation of mudbloods, Harry's mind had decided. The scene repeated itself in his head over and over again only with added commentary from Draco, flying over them on his broom. 'What lovely sport!' he would cry, 'mudbloods against dogs! Who will win?' He would laugh and Harry would be ripped apart. He couldn't look Hermione in the eye after nights like that, even when she tried so sincerely to catch them with her concerned look. What would she think if she knew his dreams?

'Harry, please, stop this.' Draco shook his head, looking around for escape or an answer, Harry didn't know, but again he couldn't stop himself from speaking the absolute truth.

'Please, Draco,' Harry returned. 'Make a decision.' With that he turned on his heel and strode down the corridor. Though his legs felt like jelly, and he feared Draco would never look him in the eye again, he kept walking.


	16. The Truth

Big thanks to Hidden Lily for helping me with the chapter. I was very unsure about it so I really hope you like it. Please tell me what you think!

Chapter 15: The Truth

Lucius was very disappointed. Usually, that would mean someone was going to get a hexing, but in this case his wand stayed in his cane. The muggles and their hopeless records. Harry's origins were undocumented. Only the date of his admission, his name and a mention of the scar on his forehead. Lucius had checked the local church records, but found no record of any Pattons. He had checked the villages close by and nothing. He had gone further afield, but no family missing a boy Harry's age. It was very distasteful, but Lucius might have to face the facts that some wandering muggle left Harry at the Workhouse doors. Perhaps even some horrid gypsy creature.

The realisation that Harry was without a doubt just an orphan muggle boy hit Lucius a lot harder than he liked. Perhaps it was the child's innate magical aura, but Lucius' foolish hope had been all too strong. It had clouded his judgment. No matter, he'd stop wasting his time immediately and get back to the work at hand. Sirius Black was just a madman, and apparently Lucius himself was not far off.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore was not far from the wizard patriarch. He had been to visit the location of the Potter's old home and found, to his quiet relief, no sign that there had ever been anyone living there. Luckily, Dumbledore had already made sure the date of Harry's admission to the workhouse had been moved a few months. The Ministry's records of the Potters had been surreptitiously … corrected. The Potter's address being the notable difference. Nothing could connect the night _all_ the Potters were slaughtered and a night months later when a little orphan boy was dropped off at a Workhouse halfway on the other side of the country. If Lucius didn't know about Harry, he wasn't about to find out anytime soon. If he did know, well, Dumbledore would act on that when the time came. Best to safe than sorry.

One thing that did worry the old Headmaster was the lack of signs from the other survivor of that night. Dumbledore knew Voldemort's true goal had been immortality, though in what form he knew not. Why did he not return, in some form, or was he biding his time? Perhaps immortality had its price. The days grew darker, that much he knew, but when the storm would hit was anyone's guess.

XXX

'Draco?' Harry asked, peaking around the corner. Nope, not there either. Another shelf, another empty row. Harry bit his lip. He hated being home and not having Draco around. The Malfoy heir hadn't spoken to Harry since their confrontation. Harry had hoped Draco would simply ignore his comments once they were home in a pureblood environment, but no such luck. Draco got up in the morning, ate breakfast silently, and disappeared. Usually to the library, but when Harry had started looking for him the boy had quickly found other places to hide. Harry was getting quite frustrated.

He went to the desk standing in the far end of the library in front of the high windows and looked out into the garden. It was perfect. Sun glittering on the water in the small pond, flowers hanging heavy with bright colours. Clouds like cherubs' beds rolling lazily by - it would have made Draco refuse to stay inside. Harry sighed and pushed one of the French doors open, stepping into the warm air. His summer robes were light and airy - he didn't bother with an outer cloak. He went round the corner to the rose garden, a spectacular geometric layout of bushes to wander around. Harry walked right by and wished it would rain.

He went further away from the house, towards the wilderness that surrounded the property and protected them from any muggles wandering about. He and Draco had often played in these woods when they were younger. It had been a few years. Too busy with Quidditch and summer assignments to pretend to be lost in a jungle.

He passed by a rather large boulder, and happened to glance up as he stepped over some fallen bows. Draco's outer cloak hung from a branch just in front of him, as if waiting for him to come across it. Could Draco be here? Harry stepped as light as he could around the rock, and peered towards a small clearing. Someone had used magic to clear it, and that someone was sitting in the middle on a soft blanket, reading. Dozens of books in fact were scattered around Draco, and he seemed in deep concentration. He was wearing his muggle clothes, something Harry had never seen. He knew Mr. Malfoy always kept the latest fashions close by in case they needed to blend in, but they had never had such a need. Yet there Draco sat, wearing dark long trousers, a white linen shirt with a stiff collar and a waistcoat, not buttoned. Around his open collar hung an unknotted necktie. Draco looked like a character from some fanciful tale of a muggle coming across a witch in enchanted woods and falling in love.

He looked older as well, almost wise the way he sat with his legs tucked under him and his back fairly straight. Harry had not noticed how long Draco's hair had gotten, falling into his eyes as he bent his head to the page. The sun's light made it almost blinding. His face, what Harry could see of it, was severe, almost frowning, as if he must wrest the knowledge from the book at all costs.

'He's beautiful,' Harry thought, brows furrowing. 'But what is he doing?' He stepped slowly around the boulder and into the light. Draco reacted immediately, his wand up quicker than he grabbed at a Snitch. Harry was impressed; he knew secretly they he could best Draco in a duel if he really tried, which he never did.

'Hello,' Harry said, hoping he sounded casual. Draco lowered his wand, but his face lost none of its frown.

'What do you want? Did my disappearance not make it clear I wished to be alone?'

'Um, yes, of course,' Harry mumbled, realising he hadn't really thought to consider Draco's feelings on the matter. 'But- Look, Draco, I should apologise-'

'Don't!' Draco shouted, startling Harry enough to make him take a step back. Draco bit his lip and looked away. 'Leave me alone for a little while longer, Harry. I need more time.'

'Why?' Harry couldn't stop himself from asking in his bewilderment.

'Just go! Please.' Draco hardly ever said please, even to his father, so Harry quickly backed away, turned and ran. He didn't stop until he was well out of the forest, and then he walked quickly to their room. Merlin's tits, Harry thought - feeling slightly guilty for using such words even in his mind, but Zabini said it all the time - what was he going to do if Draco never wanted to speak to him again? His breathing felt labored and his heart pounded at the thought. What was Draco thinking about this very moment, he wondered?

XXX

The words on the page blurred with Draco's anger. He puffed out an annoyed breath and threw the book down, shifting so he sat crossed-legged on the blanket, elbows on knees. He closed his eyes, held his breath and thought of nothing. Certain that no frustrated tears had been allowed to escape, he sat up straight once more and looked down at the books surrounding him, then to his clothes. He huffed again, shaking his head at himself. What on earth had possessed him to try on these silly things? He had seen many pictures of muggles in books and sometimes he thought the men looked rather dashing, but never had he considered he should try to imitate them. But it had all been part of his research, he reasoned. Simply a scientific curiosity.

'Why did you have to destroy everything?' Draco asked aloud, but Harry was long gone. 'Your presence is a paradox that should not have attention drawn to it. Even my father lives in silent denial. Our father,' he snorted softly. 'The Malfoy twins. How I wish you were my real brother, yet how devastated I would be if you were.'

Draco closed his eyes briefly and pulled the nearest book to him, forcing himself to look. His eyes scanned the words, but his mind failed to read them. It was the same as the others: a study of the inferiority of muggleborns and how their destiny was to destroy the magic world, either through squib children or exposure to the muggle world. It gave scientific proof that muggleborns were more likely to have squib children, and how they were poor in all forms of magic. It argued brilliantly that muggleborns would destroy the wizarding culture through the introduction of their muggle ways into every institution. It was a powerful book, full of the right rhetoric: the perfect blend to appeal to the emotional and rational both. A book written by a Slytherin, no doubt.

It was also, irrefutably, full of thestral shite. Invisible to the naked eye, but oh-so-effective nonetheless.

Draco, however, could see it, had trained himself for over a month now to see it. If he had only read the books in his father's library, then yes, perhaps, he would have been swayed by the rhetoric, but another book at Hogwarts, written very recently and in a different style altogether, had pleaded with wizards to be critical, to assess such works independently. That book too, was Slytherin, and for the first time Draco had felt something … powerful inside him.

Not power like he wielded in Slytherin House thanks to his name. Not power he wielded over his father thanks to his puppy-dog eyes. Not power he wielded over Harry as the "elder" brother. Not even power like he could tame from his wand or potion ingredients.

Through his own cleverness, his rational mind and Slytherin cunning, he could destroy every argument these professors and masters made, no matter their age, position or heritage. He knew he was right, no matter how much pain it caused one part of him, because he could see the holes. It was both a liberating and horrible realisation:

That he cared more about being right than being a good pureblood, a good son or a good Slytherin even. Even though being right was Slytherin, it was only because they said so. Draco wanted to be right because it was true, because he was the best.

Which was how he found himself in this terrible predicament. No matter how hard he looked, he found no convincing evidence of … anything.

A month of constant studying had left him with no results - and that meant the worst result of all: that they were all wrong. Even his father.

Every time he found a study that showed promise one part of him was overjoyed. Maybe this time, it would all fall into place and he could shove it in Harry's righteous face. I am better than you! But another part of him knew if he did that, Harry would hate him, and he might even hate himself. A constant battle for the Snitch was going on inside his mind: the winner would have his sanity.

He looked down at himself once more, and thought: well, perhaps the muggles weren't utterly stupid; they certainly knew how to dress. Yes, it was time to tell the truth.

XXX

Harry sat on his bed reading his fourth-year Defence book. Mr Malfoy had already purchased all their books for next year, and Harry was almost done with this one. The door opened quietly and Harry looked up to see Draco slip inside. The aristocratic blond had his cloak wrapped tightly around him. He strode straight to the bathroom and shut the door firmly. Harry went back to his book, biting his lip in anticipation. Maybe Draco would tell him to sleep somewhere else from now on? In truth, Harry missed Draco not crawling in with him whenever he was cold. Malfoy Manor in summer was far from the coldness of the Scottish winter in the dungeons.

Finally, Draco emerged, wearing a thin summer robe. 'He's still beautiful,' Harry's mind commented. He forced his eyes on his book again.

'I must speak to you,' Draco announced, standing in front of the bed with a very serious expression. Harry braced himself for the worst. 'Please, hear me out.' Draco took a deep breath; he looked as nervous as Harry felt. What on earth could be so bad even Draco had trouble saying it?

'I'm sorry about what I said to you, and every other nasty and unnecessary comment made about your friend, Granger.' Harry stared, speechless, while Draco continued, keeping his eyes on the wall behind Harry. 'Even if muggleborns were inferior, that is no excuse for me to act like a … like an animal. I should conduct myself as a gentleman no matter what my personal feelings or political leanings. But more than that … I was wrong.

'I have, with my brilliant reasoning and research skills, come to my own independent conclusion, which is the truth. I have discovered, on my own, that practically all papers, books and pamphlets on the subject of muggleborns all eventually refer back to the same incompetent experiments done by a professor of dubious origins in the early 1770s, and that the whole pureblood movement almost exclusively stems from his propaganda alone. I have written a paper, though I won't publish it yet. No one would give a second glance to a paper by a fourth year, but in time, I will prove them all wrong.'

Draco stopped speaking, visibly forcing himself to do so. Harry simply stared, trying to figure it all out. His pureblood owner had just declared that they weren't truly different. At first Harry wanted to protest; he was just a muggleborn, rescued from the very gutter of the world, and had never really belonged. Draco's earnest, nervous, stubborn and apologetic face, however, with the usual dash of arrogance, gave him pause. Could it be true? Could he accept it?

'Well?' Draco asked, pushing his nervousness away by getting annoyed. 'You haven't anything to say?' Harry smiled, put his book aside and slowly stood. Draco took a small step back to allow Harry space, but stayed close.

'Thank you, Draco,' he said softly, then reached out, not completely sure of his welcome. He drew Draco into a hug. His friend remained stiff for several seconds, then Harry felt arms wrap around him and sighed contently.

'I couldn't let you leave,' Draco whispered.

'I promised I wouldn't,' Harry reminded him.

'But I wouldn't want you to stay if you were unhappy, and how could you be happy?'

'I've always been happy with you, Draco,' Harry whispered, squeezing tightly. 'I knew my place, always, and was grateful.'

'And now?'

'Now … I know my place is next to you, still, but because you want me there, not because it's expected of me.' Draco drew back, his eyes suspiciously glassy. It had been an emotional day.

'Good,' he said. 'That's what I wanted.' He straightened his robe and moved away. Harry felt cold suddenly. Draco picked up a school book from his nightstand and went to sit out on the balcony. Harry took a deep breath and let it out. He looked around the room. Yes, it was still the same. He felt different, though, like something has shifted inside him and was falling into place. He went out to join Draco in his reading and felt even better.


	17. New Information

Big thanks to Hidden Lily for beta-ing this!

Note: I should probably mention that Mr. Baines is the real name of the President of the Poor Law Board and that he was a member of the Privy Council. Everything else about him is pure fiction.

Chapter 16: New Information

There is something incredibly peaceful about a moving train, Harry thought. He had heard muggle trains were slower and louder, but the Hogwarts Express had just the right rhythm. Draco's body rocked with the train into Harry's, creating the most deliciously lulling sensation. Harry was trying to keep his eyes open (they had stayed up rather late to celebrate their last day of summer) and his eyes rested on Draco's hand. It seemed very fragile, yet smooth and hard, strong in its own way.

He was roused by his mindless contemplations by the sliding of the door. Ronald Weasley looked about the compartment, clearly searching for something, before reluctantly looking at the brothers seated beside each other. He focused on Harry, the ever-so-slightly larger of the two this year.

'Have you seen Scabbers?' he asked flatly.

'Your rat?' Harry asked, trying to connect the name with an animal. Weasley nodded and Draco, thankfully, remained silent, staring out the window. 'Sorry, no.'

'Blast,' Weasley muttered. 'I had him on the platform, and suddenly he bit my finger and ran off!' Harry felt Draco twitch and poked him in the side while Weasley checked under the seats again. 'Mum said she'd find him, but I was hoping he had gotten on the plane. He's smart, you know, for a rat.'

'Sorry, no rats here,' Harry repeated. Weasley nodded despondently and left. Draco snickered and Harry tried to hide his smile at the sound.

XXX

'Allow me to introduce you all to our new Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher: Professor Alastor Moody,' Dumbledore announced to the mob of students. The horrible-looking man rose, a few clapped, and he resumed his seat without pause. Harry had heard of Mad-Eye Moody - no child in a pureblood home hadn't - but nothing had quite prepared him for the sight of that disturbing eye.

'Before we dig in,' Dumbledore continued, 'I know I do not usually address idle rumours, but this one I may have been started myself - I can't recall - so I thought I should mention it. The Triwizard Tournament has not been restarted.' A chorus of disappointed sighs met this statement. 'The Triwizard delegation has not been meeting in secret, and their declaration of 1792 still stands. You will simply have to entertain yourself. Now, eat!'

'Barbaric,' Draco muttered under his breath as he began serving himself. 'How could anyone wish for that gladiatorial-like combat to return? Utterly uncivilized.' Harry kept the peace by not pointing out Draco's boasting about his own chances as Champion when he had first heard the rumours. It felt good to be back, Harry realised as he looked around and returned the smiles of his year-mates. His new understanding with Draco made it easier to accept their attention. He was still the "Slayer of Black" in some eyes, which made him uncomfortable, but he didn't shy away so much now.

He caught sight of Hermione across the hall and they exchanged silent greetings. After that his eyes strayed over to the Head Table, were Mad-Eye sat. The man was staring right at Harry with the most strangely intense gaze Harry had seen since … well, perhaps it reminded him a little of Quirrell. It was very unsettling.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain on his forehead. He placed his palm on it and frowned. Just as quickly as the pain had come, it was gone.

'What's the matter?' Draco asked. 'Headache?'

'No … nothing,' Harry said, shrugging it off and going back to his meal. He was determined this would be the best year at Hogwarts yet. In some ways he was absolutely right, in others, disastrously wrong.

XXX

Several months earlier, Riddle Manor. 

'Are we here, My Lord? Is this the place?'

'Yes, Quirrell, get us inside, quickly.' The place looked worn and gloomy, but Quirrell hurried inside and out of the rain. 'The basement, at the end of the hall, quickly.'

'Yes, My Lord!' Quirrell wheezed, gripped the door handle tightly, almost tripping as he closed it behind him. He felt along the walls, holding himself steady and found the door to the basement under the stairs. 'Lumos,' he whispered to his wand and a weak light made it possible to descend into the darkness. The rickety stairs did not make it easy for the shivering wizard, but he made it down in one piece. He lighted the torches with a spell and the room revealed itself in all its horrible glory.

'My Lord, what is it?' gasped Quirrell.

The basement was one large room with old torches lining all four walls. The contents were illuminated by their flickering light and added to the grotesque atmosphere. To a muggle it would look like a mad-man's laboratory, left to rot. Around three of the walls there was a long counter filled with glasses with unidentifiable things in them, dusted books opened or torn, potion ingredients and, oddly enough, mechanical instruments, and even primitive electrical experiments. A collection that looked like a hodgepodge of muggle and magical artefacts, disturbed by a storm a long time ago and now deadly silent. In the middle stood the monstrosity that caught Quirrell's attention. A metal slab was suspended by chains from the ceiling, reminiscent of an as yet unmade monster-film. Beside it several instruments stood, the most prominent being the biggest glass container Quirrell had ever seen. It contained a greenish liquid, aged with a horrible brownish crust on top. A magical tube - Quirrell knew this by its design and the lack of pump - came up, divided into half a dozen or more tubes and inserted itself into the body of a man.

Or, what was left of the man. Thirteen years had caused the preservation charms to fail, but the basement was uncomfortably dry, a strange feeling of static in the air, and the corpse had been magically mummified, if such a term existed.

'Let me see!' the parasitic voice demanded. Quirrell hurriedly ripped off his turban and obediently turned around. 'I do not understand,' Voldemort whispered, 'I thought the machine must have engaged or I would not be here… but it failed utterly. How, then, can I be alive?'

'My Lord, this machine, what was it meant to do?' Quirrell asked, his curiosity overwhelming. He suddenly noticed the floor was covered in symbols, most of which he did not recognise. Some, though, were for death and life.

'Bring me back from death, you fool!' Voldemort gasped. 'It was my guard against it. I spent years fashioning it.'

'But how does it work?'

'Necromancy.' That one word sent shivers up Quirrell's spine. No sane wizard used necromancy. As far as the stories went, everyone who dabbled in it went insane. Things that have died should not be brought back. 'I did not trust anyone to perform the rituals in the event of my death, so I devised this machine. A magical machine. In the event of my death it was to engage and call my soul into this body.'

'But you never entered it?' Quirrell asked, sparing not a thought for the poor man who had been tied to the slab. 'It called you back to the world of the living, but failed to bring you into the body?'

'Imbecile! Can you not see? It did not work at all!' Quirrell decided against further questioning. Eventually, when Voldemort remained silent, Quirrell went upstairs again and decided he needed some sort of food. He had not eaten for days, and he was growing weak. 'No,' Voldemort told him. 'Food is unimportant. It will not give us more time at this stage. We must find another….'

XXX

Harry sighed as he slipped into bed, full of good food and in good spirits. Snoring could already be heard from Crabbe and Goyle's beds, while Nott had the curtains draws, the light of his lumos indicating he was reading, as usual. Blaise was off somewhere chatting with the girls still. Harry has snickered at Blaise's constant attention on the female snakes; he had barely said hello to the Malfoy twins. Draco had snorted and shook his head sadly, muttering something about their friend being lost.

Harry was just drifting off to sleep when his curtains were pulled aside and Draco slipped right underneath the covers. Harry blinked. 'What are you doing?' he asked.

'You know I hate the first night back, my bed is too cold after months of not being slept in,' Draco grumbled, snuggling in and getting comfortable.

'But your bed will be just as cold tomorrow, and why can't you use a heating charm?'

'I did cast a heating charm, but if I get in now, my skin will be all dry by morning, best to let it work for a few days.'

'Days? Draco, that makes no sense.'

'Are you throwing me out? I might catch a cold.'

'It's the middle of summer-' Harry stopped shook his head. Why was he arguing? They did it all the time last year. He turned on his back and went to sleep, smiling when Draco tried to steal the covers.

XXX

'It has been a pleasure, Lord Mayhew.' The middle-aged politician's handshake was firm. 'Your input has always been invaluable to the Poor Law Board.'

'Thank you, Mr. Baines,' Lucius inclined his head in acknowledgement. 'I almost forgot, I heard you are now a proud member of the Privy Council? Congratulations.'

'Indeed I am, thank you.'

'Good day to you, Mr. Baines.' Lucius didn't bother to hear the man's goodbye. He was a skilled lawyer and politician, having risen quickly in the House of Commons to a high status of respectability and competence, something severely lacking in MPs nowadays. Lucius' work on muggleborns in muggle institutions had born some fruit recently, but it seemed his work within the muggle establishments was never finished. Replacing the Poor Law Commission with the Poor Law Board due to the scandals seemed to Lucius, at first, to be a hopelessly inadequate and pointless move. With his quiet guidance, however, things were changing. It would never come close to wizarding standards of living, but these were muggles, and even with his superior skills and wisdom there was only so much one wizard could do. In any case, Ministry employees now frequently visited Workhouses to check for muggleborn children. Lucius was still having trouble convincing the Wizengamot that they, and all muggleborn children, needed to be removed from what would ultimately be a foreign environment. So far, unfortunately, the wizards were proving far too sentimental.

If muggles could believe it was right for some people to live in godawful workhouses, how could they be allowed to keep their children when some of them were bound to be terrified of them, or even wish to cast them away because of their magic? No, Lucius' work would never be finished.

The muggle street was busy and Lucius paused to admire the ant-like hustle and bustle. He spun his cane around in his fingers once and strolled down the street in a good mood. The boys were safely back at school, idiotic rumours about the boys and their mother had died down, his work was productive. All in all, Lucius was happy, despite any lingering anxiety over Harry's origins. He simply put it from his mind. There was nothing to be done about it, after all.

'Malfoy!' A man in decaying clothes, disgusting shallow skin and the smell of a sewer rat accosted him suddenly. Lucius reared back as the man clutched at the front of his coat. He had seen the repulsive man in the Daily Prophet often enough after his death. What on earth was he doing alive? Sirius Black clearly had some explaining to do.

'Pettigrew,' he growled, taking a firm grip on the man's hands and prying them off him. The man made a pathetic noise as he was forced to let go; Lucius may have heard a knuckle being crushed. 'You imbecile, why aren't you dead?' Before the man could answer Lucius grabbed the man's shoulder and hissed; 'Not here.' He hailed a cab, opening the door and pushing Pettigrew in first. The man scrambled through the door. 'St. Giles Circus,' Lucius told the driver before he stepped up and inside. He usually enjoyed riding around, but not in the company of dead men.

He cast several privacy spells before he spoke.

'Who are you?' he asked first.

'I am Peter Pettigrew, loyal servant of our Dark Lord!' the man proclaimed hysterically enough. 'I have been living in secret in my animagus form with the Weasley family. They never suspected a thing!'

'If I did believe you were capable of such magic, let me guess … a rat?' It was obvious, really, with that face. According to official reports, they had only found a finger. Lucius glanced down and sure enough: one was missing. Almost too incredible to believe. Almost.

'Yes!' the man hissed. His eyes were wide and bloodshot. It looked like he hadn't slept in days, or eaten or bathed. He was still fat, but his cheeks had a hollowed look and his eyes were glazed as if he was dreaming of food at that very moment. Lucius cast an air-purifying spell to cast away the smell. 'Sirius Black was never loyal! He tried to kill me because I betrayed the Potters!'

'And how did you manage that?' It did make more sense, though, Lucius thought. Sirius Black had never been the type, according to, well, practically everybody.

'I! I was the secret keeper! No one but the three of us knew, not even Dumbledore!'

'Interesting.' Lucius' mind was reeling. What did all this mean? 'And why did you attack me in the street like some beggar?'

'The Dark Lord, he has returned,' Pettigrew said with disturbing joy. Lucius' heart dropped down into his stomach, acid burning it away in a matter of seconds it seemed. He managed to not let anything show on his face.

'Indeed? If anyone could master death, it would surely be the Dark Lord, but tell me, do you have proof?'

'I have seen him with my own eyes! He has given me a mission!'

'When, where did you see him?'

'But three weeks ago. He called me forth, like he said he would when he returned. He did not have his own body, as he had said, but occupied another. Together they can get close to Dumbledore and the boy!'

'Boy?'

'No!' Pettigrew's eyes grew even wider. He shook his head frantically. 'I was not to speak of it to anyone, not even you. We do not know his significance.'

'Who?' Lucius demanded. He leaned forwards in his seat and grabbed Pettigrew's collar. 'Tell me.'

'Never! I am loyal. I was sent to gather the followers. To help more escape.'

'More? But Black wasn't a Death Eater.'

'No, I wasn't to speak of anything, only to tell of the Dark Lord's second coming and give you time and place to meet. He dares not use the Mark. If others witnessed it they would know of his return.' Lucius shifted his grip to around the man's neck.

'If you do not like pain you will tell me everything you know.'

'I am loyal!' Pettigrew wheezed. His hands came up to try and pry Lucius off, but his pathetic attempts were barely noticeable. 'The Dark Lord's vengeance is a hundred times what you can threaten!' he gasped. Lucius let go abruptly, sitting back. Pettigrew heaved for breath, almost falling out of his seat as he flopped about like dying fish.

'Very well, tell me nothing, if that is what the Dark Lord wishes.' Lucius straightened his own collar and knocked on the roof. The cab soon came to a stop. 'The time and place?'

'On New Year's Eve, at the usual place, midnight.' Lucius opened the door and jerked his head. Pettigrew needed no other prompting. He stumbled and fell hard on the cobblestones. Lucius closed the door and knocked again, continuing his ride. He reached into his pocket and took out a piece of paper, the only thing he has found in Pettigrew's pocket. It was a magical picture, or photographs as the muggles called it (an invention the wizards had quickly perfected and simplified after the muggles' invention). Four boys, on the lawn in front of a familiar castle.

One of the boys was Harry's twin, or so it seemed. Lucius frowned. It was James Potter, with Black, Pettigrew and the last one… Lupin, wasn't it? Lucius had been in seventh year when the four had entered Hogwarts, but he remembered the Potter's older face from the halls of the Ministry years later, and of course from his obituary. Had he looked so much like Harry then? Perhaps, but it had not been a likeness Lucius had considered. It was a remarkable coincidence. How oddly sentimental of Pettigrew to carry this old picture around, he thought. He tore it up and threw it out the window. Perhaps Pettigrew did feel guilt, how amusing.

XXX

'What's this, can't the Malfoy twins find anyone to go to Hogsmeade with?' Blaise mocked as he and a fifth year Slytherin girl walked past.

'Some of us prefer a little intellectual conversation instead of a brain-dead batty-eyed-'

'Hey!' the girl cried indignantly.

'Ignore the children,' Blaise said, turning away from them and heading towards Madam Puddifoot's.

'Pathetic,' Draco grumbled. 'It's as if the second we're in forth year all we're suppose to think about is girls! And all the girls suddenly think about is spelling their faces as smooth as polished marble. It's ridiculous.' Harry made a noise of agreement, though he did remember girls spelling their faces last year, as well as Blaise's following them. Since wizards and witches were completely equal, as opposed to the muggle world, the boys and girls were given lectures about the "facts of life" quite early. Wizards, and witches, didn't believe in denying their sexuality, but Harry failed to grasp what was so interesting about marble-faced girls. He also knew that alliances needed to be made early, and many of the young boys had simply been instructed to court the girls they were already promised to, so as to soften their dispositions towards each other. Mr. Malfoy had not set up any alliance for Draco, as far as Harry knew, but it could happen at any moment. The thought chilled Harry to the bone. He wasn't a romantic sort, at least he didn't think he was, but surely finding love trumped alliances? And what if you hated the person?

'What are you thinking about so hard? I swear you'll get wrinkles when you're twenty at that rate,' Draco commented. They meandered down the road towards the sweets shop while Harry tried to think of something to say.

'Don't you ever think about girls, Draco?' he had to ask.

'Why should I? Father hasn't told me his plans yet. Well, I kissed Greengrass behind the Quidditch shed last week-'

'What!' Harry stopped abruptly, causing Draco to turn back first a few steps later. 'When- I mean, how, why? You kissed her?'

'Yes,' Draco shrugged. 'She said she was convinced Nott's kissing was under par, so to speak, so she wanted a point of comparison. To tell the truth I think she's trying to convince her parents to approach father.'

'Oh…' Harry thought about that for a moment. Harry studied with Hermione during Quidditch these days, so Draco must have met the girl after practice. The thought caused his coldness to turn into a fierce… something. 'What was it like?'

Draco shrugged again. 'Not very interesting, to tell the truth, which would indicate the problem is her and not Nott.' Harry nodded and continued walking. He glanced at Draco several times, lingering on the lips. This seemed to prove his point. If Draco had kissed someone he loved, surely it would have been better? What if Draco was condemned to kiss someone he hated for the rest of his life? How horrible! Suddenly, Harry understood why some boys, like Blaise, didn't care about courting the right girl, but instead went out with everyone. If you only had a few years until you were stuck with someone you didn't like kissing, then it was clearly prudent to try the rest of the lot while you had the chance.

Harry resolved to kiss someone too, someone he liked, if only to prove to Draco that it could be interesting.


	18. To See

Beta: A big thanks to Hidden Lily for all her work!

Note: Thank you to all the reviewers. I read every comment and they help me keep writing this fic! You are all awesome.

Chapter 17: To See

Harry was certain Draco was playing a trick on him. He was absolutely certain his so-called brother was sneaking off to snog people every chance he got. He never said anything of course; after his initial boast of kissing Greengrass he had started to play the gentleman and wouldn't 'sully any good girl's name'. Harry had then asked if he had sneaked off with a bad girl, to which Draco replied: 'Well, I certainly wouldn't sully my reputation and admit that!'

Still, Harry was sure Draco was exchanging knowing looks with nearly half the eligible girls in Slytherin, and maybe the occasional Ravenclaw. Blaise thought he was bonkers and insisted Draco had the seducing capability of a hippogriff.

'But where was he last night then?'

'Playing Quidditch, you daft idiot,' Blaise explained, 'where's all that twin intuition?'

Maybe he was just imagining it, Harry thought, both miserable and hopeful at the thought. He couldn't get the image of Draco snogging someone out of his mind.

'Is Greengrass still accompanying Nott?' Harry asked.

'Yes, poor girl. He's more interested in his books than getting under her robes.'

Harry thought about getting underneath a girl's robes and shivered. 'Bit early for that sort of thing,' he couldn't help but mutter. Blaise gave a loud snort and then a wolfish grin.

'Never too early for pleasures of the flesh, my young wizard. Some of us are early bloomers!' He laughed and wandered off, presumably to engage in said pleasures. Harry wrinkled his nose and decided to head to bed, even though the thought of leaving the fireplace was not the least appealing. The cold had come quickly this year. In fact, all of Hogwarts felt colder somehow. He missed Malfoy Manor and Dobby bringing them breakfast in bed on Saturdays.

He dragged himself to bed, but forced himself to read some Arithmancy. Harry wished desperately he had never taken the subject - he had barely gotten through it last year, but Draco insisted and with his help, Harry managed.

About an hour later Harry heard someone coming into the dorm and going into the bathroom. A few moments later his curtains parted and Draco slipped inside. Harry scooted over obediently.

'You will never guess what I heard,' Draco whispered, getting underneath the covers.

'What?'

'Apparently Cho Chang fancies you!' Harry blinked … then blinked again. Draco waved a hand in front of his face, 'Hello?'

'Um … I see.'

'You see? Splendid, but what are you going to do?' Draco demanded, scooting even closer. Harry put away his book and shrugged. 'Come on, you must ask her out. She's perfect for you. Unattached, but a good family. Although, perhaps you just want a snog behind the Quidditch shed?' Draco chuckled, bumping his shoulder against Harry's.

'No, I do not,' Harry snapped, surprising even himself.

'What? You don't like her? I think she's very pretty.'

'Then maybe you should snog her!' Harry moved away, uncomfortable with the close proximity. Draco frowned at him.

'She fancies you remember?'

'Well, I don't fancy her, and I don't want to snog anyone unless I truly care about them,' Harry blurted out. Draco's eyebrows rose to his hairline. 'Forgive me for not thinking about snogging girls all the time.'

'You need hardly apologise to me,' Draco replied. He looked away. 'I don't care much for it myself.'

'So … you haven't kissed anyone else since Greengrass?'

'No.' Harry sighed silently with relief. Draco gave him an odd look. 'So who do you fancy?'

'What?' Harry reared back at the question. 'No one.'

'Yes, there is someone, I can tell,' Draco grinned greedily. 'Tell me at once.'

'No one, there's no one.' And there wasn't, but why was he so horribly nervous all of a sudden?

'I demand to know!' Draco poked Harry in the side for emphasis, like he used to do when he wanted Harry to hurry up or do something for him that they weren't suppose to. Harry decided to poke back. Draco promptly gaped at him and then poked him again, harder. Harry raised his chin, pointed his finger and poked Draco right back. Draco's mouth fell open in outrage and Harry tried to suppress his laugh. Finally, neither boy could resist the temptation and both attacked each other simultaneously, tickling mercilessly.

It had been a while since they had indulged in quite such childish behaviour, but well worth it. They tumbled around on the bed until Harry got the upper hand.

'Stop, stop!'

'Surrender!' Harry cried, holding both of Draco's hands above his head with one of his own, and tickling with the other.

'Wait, please,' Draco gasped and Harry stopped, worried he had overdone it. He leaned down to gauge Draco's state. There was an odd look in the grey eyes. 'I surrender,' he whispered, so softly Harry wasn't even sure he had heard them.

Just then the door to the dorm opened and shut loudly. Harry rolled off Draco and got under the covers. 'Are you going back to your bed?' he asked quietly, thinking Draco would sneak back while the others were in the bathroom. While Draco occasionally still snuck into Harry's bed to talk, they both silently agreed not to let anyone else know about it.

'You've tired me completely out, you great oaf, not a chance,' Draco mumbled and went to sleep.

XXX

'Harry, stay,' Moody barked at the end of a particularly jarring Defence lesson. Their new teacher employed a very different teaching style. Harry was not sure he liked it. He most certainly did not like the way Moody's glass eye seemed to be permanently fixed on him, only zooming around whenever Harry decided to meet its gaze.

Draco threw him a sympathetic look, but wasted no time in getting his things together and escaping with the rest of the class. Harry wondered what he could have done. He hadn't said anything during class, keeping quiet and not showing off as he preferred. He might trust Draco to not think of him as inferior, but there was no chance of him forgiving Harry for beating him in class, any class.

Harry sat quietly and waited for the students to leave, trying not to squirm as he felt that disgusting eye on him, along with its slightly less creepy friend. Moody limped over to Harry's desk, and Harry felt as if the top of his head would catch fire, but he didn't want to look up.

'Harry,' Moody said as quietly as he presumably could. 'Are there any problems at home?'

'What?' Harry's head sprang up at the question. Moody was gazing down at him impassively. 'Why do you ask?'

'You seem very quiet in class. I asked the other teachers and they say you've always been quiet, but you do good work. You are your brother's opposite, I take it.'

'Well, I suppose. Draco's the smart one,' Harry mumbled.

'He's controlling?'

'What? No-' Harry knew he was a terrible liar, and Moody's eye seemed to gleam, hopefully just the light reflecting on the glass. 'Well, he's the older brother. It's just how we are.'

'And your father, Lucius Malfoy? What sort of father is he?' Harry knew the stories about Mad-Eye Moody well enough to be suspicious of this line of questioning.

'He's the best father a boy could ever have,' Harry said, a little defiantly.

'Is he now? That's good to hear. You were raised by your mother during your early years, is that right?'

'Yes, but why are you asking me all this?'

'I just want to learn more about you, Harry. You're a very interesting boy, almost a young man soon. You're growing quick this year, another inch soon already since the term started.' Moody's voice had taken on an odd tone, and Harry did not like it one bit.

'I should really get to my next class.' He made to get up, but Moody reached out quick as a snitch and pushed the boy's shoulder down slightly more forceful than necessary.

'I'll write you a note. I like you, Harry. I can tell you have great potential in Defence.'

'You can?'

'Yes, I'm sure of it. In fact, I'll teach you a spell, a very powerful spell, and I'm sure you'll get it in no time. For this spell you'll need a memory. A good memory. Usually, people use fond memories of early childhood. On a mother's lap, bedtime stories, that sort of this. Do you have anything like that, Harry?'

'Um-' Harry had lots of fond memories of his childhood with Draco, but they weren't truly happy because every time Harry thought back to the time before Hogwarts it was tainted with the knowledge that he had been a filthy muggle in a grand house, a mere plaything. He didn't blame the Malfoys, not really, they hadn't known he was a wizard.

'Finding out I had a brother,' Harry lied. Moody narrowed his eyes.

'Nothing before that?'

'Um…'

'Legilimens!' Harry's vision darkened and he felt as if he was swimming in memories. He was back at the Workhouse, getting beaten again and again. Then he was getting taunted by the other boys for being possessed. Harry Porter, they called him, but he never knew his parents. Then Lucius was there, staring at him, taking him away; a mere orphan workhouse boy in a grand manor house. Then he was ripped out of his head, finding himself slumped over his desk, confused. He raised his head. Moody was staring at him again with the same impassive look.

'Your name isn't Malfoy, little Harry … and it isn't Porter either.' Harry furrowed his brows, not making sense of the statement. Moody had gone into his mind! He knew about the Workhouse, but why had he done it? Harry's thoughts went blank when Moody leveled his wand at Harry's forehead. The tip of the wand brushed away Harry's unruly bangs. 'Unmistakable,' Moody murmured. Harry opened his mouth to question the man when he whispered something else and Harry's world went completely black.

XXX

'Where have you been?' Draco hissed as he caught up with Harry outside the Charms classroom. Harry looked behind him for some reason, then back at Draco.

'Um … I was … in Defence,' he said.

'Well, I know that, I was there too,' Draco rolled his eyes. 'But what did Professor Moody want?'

'Professor Moody? He wanted…' For some reason Harry couldn't for the life of him remember what the man had wanted … or even that Harry had stayed behind. But then a memory pushed itself to the surface and Harry saw it perfectly clearly. 'He wanted to discuss my paper. It was so good I could pick my own topic next time.' Harry smiled at the memory. Moody wasn't that bad, once you got used to him.

'What? Really?' Draco looked like he didn't know how to react. 'He didn't say anything about my paper, though I did get top marks, but still….'

'Maybe he confused mine with yours,' Harry suggested. 'Two Malfoys, bound to get mixed up sooner or later.'

'Don't try and placate me,' Draco admonished. 'I'm happy for you. Come on, let's get to lunch.' Harry followed obediently, hoping Draco was telling the truth.

That night Draco didn't sneak into his bed as usual, but Harry wasn't worried - it wasn't like Draco did it every night. Sleep eluded him for a long while, as if he had forgotten to do something. Eventually he fell into a restless sleep. It lasted until about 3 am, when the nightmare he was having finally woke him.

'Harry, wake up!' He almost sat bolt upright, but Draco's hand on his chest prevented it. Draco's pale face looked worried in the single light of his wand. Harry slowed his breathing. It had been over a year since his last truly frightening nightmare. Visions of the Workhouse were not as frequent, but they did occur.

'Sorry,' Harry's automatic response to a nightmare was still ingrained.

'Don't,' Draco whispered. He lay down beside Harry, listening a moment to hear if anyone else had awoken. 'Was it … about the Workhouse?'

'Not really,' Harry replied, as confused as Draco was about his answer. Slowly, the full memory of the dream came back to him. 'It was in the early days, before the improvements-'

'Depends on your definition of improvement,' Draco interjected. Harry decided to ignore the comment as it was completely true.

'But instead of our regular teacher there was … Professor Moody. And his eye was staring at me oddly and then…' Harry's hand came up to his forehead, Draco's eyes following.

'He gave you the scar? That is a very strange dream.'

'No, he didn't give me the scar, it just hurt.' Draco made an interested sound, but Harry could tell that now he had been assured Harry wasn't upset, he was quickly going back to sleep. Harry decided it was a wise idea, rubbing his scar a bit more to get rid of the lingering pain.

XXX

Draco knew it was wrong. More than that, it was disgusting. He should take it down and take it to Professor Snape or Headmaster Dumbledore so they could find whoever had done it and bring them to swift justice. House points would definitely need to be lost - hopefully it was a Gryffindor - and perhaps even ban from Hogsmeade weekends. Whoever had done this was perverse and deserved nothing less.

Several seconds ticked by and yet Draco remained rooted to the spot in the boy's dungeon bathroom, staring at the wall. In front of him hung a picture of a pornographic nature. Not any random pornographic picture you must understand - the boys had enough of them hidden away in chests and bathrooms all over the school - but of a subversive nature.

Two wizards, naked from the waist up, were having a rather heated snogging session. Occasionally one of them would look over the other's shoulder and give the voyeur a heated and knowing look. Draco's blush spread down his neck, yet he could not move.

He wondered briefly what a muggle would think of such a thing. He knew they were all about modernity and their techniology or whatever, but he was still fairly certain that such aberrant behaviour was frowned upon. There were no laws against it in the wizarding world, true, and even there were always rumours of secret clubs catering to all the deviant tastes of the world. But it wasn't something one talked about, let alone hung pictures of in school bathrooms.

Draco knew he had to take it down, right now, before anyone came in. He grabbed it and walked out quickly.

Just as he exited the bathroom he almost ran into someone.

'Excuse me,' he mumbled, hoping to get past quick. He knew the smell instantly; it was Professor Moody.

'In a hurry are we, Malfoy?' the man's gruff voice grated on Draco's ears.

'Yes sir, I have a lot of homework.'

'Nothing but the best is good enough for a Malfoy, eh?' Something about the question made Draco frown. The Professor had been distracted lately; everyone was commenting on it. Rumours were that he had even tried to resign. He was gone at night, some said, and kept long hours in the Restricted Section of the library. His glass eye was behaving as always with it's near constant stillness save for the occasional violent rolling.

'And how is your father?'

'Fine, thank you, I really must be off.'

'Of course.' Draco hurried along, resisting the urge to turn back as he felt the man's eye on him. He went straight back to the dormitory, the picture snug in his pocket.

One week later and the picture could be found underneath his pillow. Every night he would take it out and study the queer photograph. The pair in the picture seemed so normal, yet their eyes spoke of pleasures every man wanted to know, but could not. Draco knew he should be ashamed, but it was just too fascinating. He likened it to his experimenting with muggle clothing; it was simply a scientific curiosity.

'Draco?' Harry's words invaded his head and he stuffed the picture back in its place just before the curtains were parted.

'What?'

'Is something the matter?'

'No, why do you ask?'

'Well, it's just…' Harry checked to see if anyone else was in the dorm. 'You haven't been coming over to talk at night all week and I was thinking maybe you were mad at me … for what Professor Moody said.'

'What?' Draco was genuinely surprised. 'No, of course not, I've just … been tired I guess.' In truth he was a little miffed about Professor Moody's favouring of Harry. Since when was Harry so good at anything? Although Defence was the only subject Harry had never, ever asked for help in, so perhaps he was good. In any case, it wouldn't do to have his jealousy known.

'Oh, all right then.' Harry was clearly disappointed that Draco hadn't been coming over. This pleased Draco greatly and he felt instantly magnanimous.

'Do you want to come in here?' Draco asked. Harry blinked. Usually, or rather always, Draco sneaked into his bed, but he shook off his surprise and slipped under the covers. 'Did you close your curtains?' Harry used his wand and soon fell asleep. Draco on the other hand, could not stop thinking about Harry's head resting on his pillow that hid the picture.

He wasn't sure he slept at all that night.


	19. The Eye

Hello all! Sorry for not updating last... Wednesday, I think it was. Last week I was busy renovating several rooms and using big power tools! I felt very macho and even went to the "real men's shop" (according to the adverts) to buy tools and new doors. Now it looks great and I wrote this down quick when inspiration suddenly struck. Hope you enjoy!

**Beta**: hidden_lily Thanks so much for your hard work :)

Chapter 18: The Eye

'Just one more day,' Harry sighed. He hated doing homework this close to the holidays, but Hermione insisted of course. She gave him a look and returned to her work. Harry tried to focus on his Charms essay. He glanced around the library, desperate for something else to talk about.

He caught a glimpse of Professor Moody sneaking in between the shelves close to the Restricted Section and shuddered. The man had gotten even stranger over the last few weeks. His eye was still permanently fixed on Harry and for some reason it always made Harry's scar itch. He couldn't explain it; he hadn't told anyone, not even Draco. It was probably all in his mind anyway.

'How do muggles celebrate Christmas?' he asked suddenly, pulling his gaze away from the back shelves and focusing on Hermione.

'My parents don't really celebrate it much. They go to Church, but they don't much care for the Christmas tree or carols.'

'No Christmas tree?' Harry asked, shocked.

'Father says it's a silly German tradition,' Hermione looked around as if someone would overhear, then she shrugged. 'I like to read Dickens,' she said softly.

'Oh…'

'What's Christmas like with your family?' she asked, homework finally forgotten.

'It's brilliant,' Harry smiled. He couldn't wait. 'I can't wait. I'm not sure what to get Draco this year, though. He always gives me such nice things, and-… father is very generous.'

'That sounds nice,' she said softly, and they went back to work.

XXX

Christmas at Malfoy Manor was as wonderful as always. Only Draco's gift had Harry gnawing his lip in agitation. He had always been one to make his gifts more personal. Since going to Hogwarts he had been given a small allowance to spend in Hogsmeade, but for him gifts were meant to show how you felt about the person. He still had the first gift he ever received from Mr. Malfoy, tucked away in his chest. It meant more to him than all the galleons in Gringotts.

He had finally settled on making a little doll on his own. He had sneaked into Draco's old toy chest when he wasn't around and found the old Quidditch figurines he had loved so much as a young boy. Harry remembered they were the first magical thing Draco had showed him. He had taken one, battered and barely any magic left in it, and remade it into a tiny version of Draco on a broom, in professional uniform. Draco was sure to win the Cup again this year, and Harry had a feeling Draco secretly wished to become a professional Quidditch player. Some of them were making very good money these days, but even so Harry doubted Mr. Malfoy would allow it.

He therefore hadn't given it to Draco at their traditional gift-giving on Christmas morning. Mr. Malfoy had seemed very distracted ever since they had come home. He was sending them back to Hogwarts early apparently, before New Year. This was very strange, but neither Draco nor Harry had dared to question him. There was a seriousness about him that was not there before. It was darker, quieter, and therefore all the more disturbing.

Finally, after eating a delicious dinner and lots of dessert, Harry and Draco excused themselves to their room. Draco didn't say anything on their way upstairs, which was odd. Harry hadn't received a gift from Draco either, so perhaps he was nervous too.

Once in their room Harry went to his chest at the foot of his bed.

'I have a present for you,' he said, locating the small package.

'Oh?' Draco's interest peaked. He plopped down on his bed and waited for Harry to come to him. 'What is it?' Harry sat next to him and handed him the present.

'Open it.' Draco did so, in his usual slow and meticulous manner. He gasped when he saw the figurine. 'How clever! Harry, did you make this yourself?'

'I took one of your old ones to start from,' Harry admitted sheepishly. 'I hope you don't mind.'

'Not at all. It's lovely.' Draco gave him a grateful smile and let the figure go. It zoomed around them and they both chuckled as it flew twice around Draco's head.

'Thank you.' Draco put the figure on his nightstand. 'I did get you a present, but it seemed so … impersonal. I couldn't quite … it's a new self-correcting quill, actually….'

'Oh, well, thank you,' Harry said, puzzled by Draco's rambling. 'I needed one.'

'I know, but…'

'You've seemed very distracted,' Harry commented. 'But you said you aren't upset with me?'

'I'm not, I'm not,' Draco said, his cheeks flushing for some reason. He stared at the duvet. 'I found something, you see, and I wanted you to see it, but then…' He made a frustrated noise. This was very unlike Draco, being usually so articulate. Harry frowned.

'Tell me what's the matter.'

'I want to give you- I want to try something, will you let me?'

'What?'

'Please, just say yes?' Harry huffed, staring at Draco and waiting for the boy to look at him. When Draco finally did Harry couldn't help but say yes. Was there ever any doubt? He couldn't truly refuse Draco anything.

'All right.'

'Close your eyes.' Harry gave Draco a stern look, but the boy's seriousness made it clear there was no prank involved. Harry closed his eyes, trying not to be nervous. He trusted Draco implicitly, but this was very strange. He felt Draco shift on the bed, coming very close. Harry's brows furrowed, but he remained still.

Then, as if a butterfly had flitted by his lips, he felt something brush against them. The sensation returned and it was unmistakably a pair of lips. Harry held his breath, unsure of what to do. Draco pressed his lips completely against Harry's for one moment, and then leaned back. Harry blinked his eyes open. Draco watched him warily.

'A kiss?' was all Harry could say.

'You said to kiss someone you like, that it would be different. I like you, as I'm sure you know, so…'

'Oh…' Harry stared at Draco, who looked beautiful and regal as always, but now very uncertain. Harry didn't like it when Draco looked uncertain. It was such an uncommon sight. 'Was it different?' Draco frowned at the question.

'Well, I couldn't tell, to be honest.' Harry felt his heart speed up and spoke before he changed his mind.

'Try again then.' Draco's eyes grew wide, but he leaned in swiftly, Harry meeting him halfway this time. Their noses bumped and Harry was shaking with nervousness, but their lips met again. Physically, it wasn't much, he supposed, just lips pressed against lips, but his whole body was tingling nonetheless with the knowledge that it was Draco's lips. Just as soft and sweet as they had always looked. Harry shifted closer, feeling a wild recklessness rise up within him, threatening to choke him unless he acted upon it. He reached out and encircled Draco's waist, pulling the boy even closer. Draco made a sound and tilted his head more, his lips opening a fraction. That felt even better.

Harry dared to open his eyes ever-so-slightly and was stunned by the delicate eyelashes on Draco's pale cheeks. Draco lifted his hands suddenly and grabbed hold on Harry's shoulders. He opened his mouth more. Harry pulled back abruptly.

They stared at each other for several minutes.

'How was-, how was that?' Harry asked, feeling breathless. 'Was it different than with … Greengrass?' Draco let go, and so Harry did the same.

'Yes, different. Very different, I'd say … remarkably….' Draco swallowed heavily. 'How … how did you find it?'

'Brilliant.' The word popped out of his mouth before he knew what to think. Kissing Draco. It seemed to Harry the idea had been hiding in his mind for longer than he knew, waiting for the ideal opportunity. Now, it was taking up the whole of his thought process.

A smile tugged at Draco's mouth. He reached into his pocket and drew out a worn piece of paper. A photograph, Harry realised, as Draco handed it over.

'Oh,' Harry let out a whoosh of air. The pair in the picture were very handsome, and their kissing was without a doubt on a more advanced level. Harry wished to emulate them immediately. 'Who is that?'

'I don't know. I found it in the bathroom. Weeks ago.'

'This is why…?'

'Yes,' Draco looked away. 'I wasn't sure how to … broach the subject.'

Harry stared at the photo. While Draco had read certain books on more subversive subjects, especially during his muggle research time when he indulged in several subjects in the Restricted Section, Harry had not been so exposed to such ideas. He knew, theoretically, that such things weren't talked about.

'Thank you,' Harry said at last, looking up at Draco, who was frowning.

'For what, exactly?'

'For my Christmas present,' Harry smiled. 'A little … short in duration, perhaps,' he pretended to consider. 'Unless it's something I can enjoy whenever I please, like your figurine?' Draco smiled, blushing as much as Harry realised he was. Red in the face, Draco leaned closer and whispered.

'Whenever you like, Harry.' With not a care in the world except for themselves, Harry and Draco shared another kiss. They shared several before, still as red as a pair of Gryffindors, they finally got dressed for bed and slept next to each other.

When morning came, doubt had crept in during the night. Harry lay awake staring at his "brother". What if someone found out? He would be cast out into the muggle world again, he was sure. He also couldn't help but wonder why on earth Draco would prefer to kiss him instead of a pretty girl like Greengrass.

Draco didn't act or say anything out of the ordinary when he woke up. Harry decided not to mention the kissing until Draco did, and so they got ready to go back to Hogwarts. Draco clearly wanted to question his father's decision, but there was a strange look in the elder Malfoy's eyes that neither of the boys wanted to address. So they were sent back early and without an explanation.

XXX

The cemetery on New Year's Eve was a dreary place as ever. Lucius pulled his cloak tighter around himself and made certain his mask was in place. He cast another warming spell, but the eerie atmosphere, laden with dark magic, seemed to be working its way through all the layers, magic, and clothing.

He saw several people had already gathered. He knew many of them by their posture alone and some by height and weight. Crabbe and Goyle were there, no doubt eager. Severus Snape's rigid stance was unmistakable. Others were gathering even as Lucius stepped into his old place. He felt nervousness bubble up and clenched his jaw to stifle it. They could not see the change within him; they could not even see his face.

The circle was suspiciously thin, even considering the people still locked up in Azkaban. A ripple of whispers went through the crowd as a man appeared from behind one of the crypts. He walked with a limp, a disturbingly familiar one. Several Death Eaters were drawing their wands and stepping back from the man, who approached with a slow calmness.

Wormtail came running up suddenly, waving his hands excitedly.

'Fear not, fear not, fellow servants, the Dark Lord approaches!' Lucius frowned at the man and his heart skipped a beat at the thought of what this could mean.

Alastor Moody stepped into the circle through the widest gap. The Death Eaters were still uneasy, several had wands trained at him. His horrible glass eye was moving slowly from one to the next.

'Such a disappointment,' a gurgling hiss was heard, but not from the man's mouth. 'Has my grand army been reduced to this? So few loyal subjects left.'

'My Lord?' one of the Death Eaters whispered.

'I am here,' the voice answered. 'Inside this most loyal follower.' Now the whispers grew louder and several shocked and confused looks were exchanged. Alastor Moody, an Auror famed for catching them, in actuality a loyal Death Eater? Impossible. If such a man could be corrupted, Lucius thought, there was no hope for any of them.

'He was one of the very few who willingly went to Azkaban rather than deny me,' the voice proclaimed. What? This made no sense. Lucius studied the man, ignoring the glass eye in favour of the other. It was calculating, but had an air of madness that was common to the most fervent Death Eaters. He was clearly excited to be here and could not contain it. 'He then captured the famous Auror and infiltrated Hogwarts itself. He and Wormtail have kept me alive.'

'Who is it?' someone dared ask. There was a long silence, and Lucius wondered if the offender would be struck down, but then Moody shifted and appeared to nod.

'I am Bartemius Crouch, Jr.,' he revealed. 'I escaped Azkaban and have been at my master's side ever since, but more than that, I have been his vessel.'

Lucius tried not to gag at the thought of such an abomination. After studying the man he could see that he looked even older than a man of such an age should. Clearly, housing the spirit of another was wearing the body down. Add to that the constant Polyjuice potion to keep up the charade. He would not last more than a year. A body is meant for one soul, every wizard with a little Dark Arts knowledge knew that. Barty Crouch was dying for his master.

With a swallowed gasp Lucius realised the Dark Lord could see them all perfectly; the eye was his window into the world. He would be able to see through their masks. Lucius tried his utmost to school his features, as the dreaded eye was fixed upon him.

'My plans for immortality,' the voice continued, its eye unmoving, 'went awry. I have spent these last months discovering the reason for my half-state upon this earth. I now know how to regain my full strength and fulfill my destiny.' The crowd was growing excited. 'Some of you will be allowed to stand by my side when that happens, if you manage to prove your loyalty.' The atmosphere, already more than Lucius could bear, grew icy. Everyone knew who was most likely to receive the Lord's just punishment. Their fear of his punishment for their past mistakes was only a fraction less than their fear of his retribution had they not shown themselves at all. Fear had brought them here, and fear kept them.

Moody limped to the first person to his left and went from one Death Eater to the next, dragging out their cowardly ways and administering Cruciatus whenever he deemed it necessary. It was not the end of their punishment - it was barely a beginning - but they were marked for more. When he came to Lucius he was silent for a long moment while Lucius braced himself for the curse.

'You avoided Azkaban by claiming the Imperius,' the Dark Lord's voice hissed, coming from somewhere inside Moody, or Crouch.

'My Lord, I felt I was better suited to prepare for your return if I was free to do so,' Lucius said with a clear voice, bowing slightly. 'I am a loyal follower.'

'You have always been a good servant, Luciusss, and I have a use for you.' With that the man limped to the next and Lucius tried not to let himself sag with relief.

When everyone had been dealt with, Crouch limped back to the centre. The Dark Lord's voice spoke as loud as he could, which was not much, but his breathless hissing was even more frightful than his usual almost cultured drawl.

'I will summon you together once more when it is time for me to regain my full strength. For the time being some of you shall be of more use to me than others. I will speak to you each privately on such matters. Starting with you, Lucius. Everyone else. Leave.' The command was barely spoken before the wizards started popping out of the place. Lucius was very puzzled, not to mention scared almost witless. He was sure Severus Snape would be first. It seemed logical, but perhaps the man had known all along, being at Hogwarts as well, and was already working to some end. The Dark Lord had not spoken to or of Snape during his round.

Soon Lucius was alone and standing before the Dark Lord, incased in a madman disguised as another madman. It all seemed more surreal than anything Lucius had experienced.

'Lucius, come closer.' He did so obediently and with swift steps. Crouch was clearly tired and sat down on a low headstone. He looked down while the glass eye fixed Lucius in its gaze. 'You never told me your lovely wife had twins.' Despite knowing the Dark Lord would have to address it at some point, the direct and sudden announcement felt like a punch to the heart, followed by a stab and a twist.

'Yes, my Lord. I wanted the second child gone as quickly as possible. Our estate, you understand, cannot be torn apart. At first we sent the child to France to distant relatives, then when my wife grew ill she decided to move down there as well. I am afraid she grew too attached and wanted the pair reunited.'

'And you allowed her to do so?' Something in the tone of the question made the icy grip around Lucius' heart tighten. Crouch was now gazing up at him as well.

'She could not be persuaded, but I have her assurance, and Harry's, that he will renounce all claim to the estate.'

'You disappoint me, Lucius.' 'Crucio!' Crouch cast the spell, being in silent communication with his master, and caught Lucius completely by surprise. He screamed until his throat bled and by the time the pain stopped he had lost all sense of time. He saw the stars above him and wondered if a day or two had passed, or whether it had all been a horrid nightmare. His body twitched now and then, reminding him of the blinding pain.

'Do not lie to me, Lucius,' the Dark Lord hissed, sitting and leaning over him. The glass eye seemed to have become red. 'I know the child is not yours!'

'Forgive me, My Lord,' Lucius begged, but knew in his heart the man would surely kill him now. Maybe not immediately, but after enough torture to twist his mind into madness, then he would die. Strangely, his thoughts turned almost immediately to Harry. He would be a prime target for the Dark Lord: a muggleborn pretending to be a pureblood. He would be tortured as well, perhaps made into some mockery of a house elf. The thought sent such violent chills through Lucius' whole body he almost cried out, reached for his wand and tried to stop the madman. His body wasn't capable, however.

'How did you find him?'

'At a muggle Workhouse, a house for the poor, My Lord,' Lucius spoke mechanically, knowing the truth was coming out of him one way or another. 'He was just a wretched thing, barely alive really. My son was so lonely, My Lord, as a father I could not bear to see him suffer, but I needed him protected. A muggle child would be the perfect playmate. Controllable, a human house elf in truth. I did not know he was magical, I swear it with my magic and the life of my child. I did the only thing I could do to prevent it from being discovered. Dumbledore found out somehow and sent a Hogwarts letter to goad me. I gave Harry my name to hide his past and to prevent Dumbledore from exposing it all.'

Lucius took a deep breath when he was finished, trying to calm himself in preparation for more torture. If only he could somehow warn Harry and Draco, but it was all too late. He should never have come. His only comfort was that they were both safely back at Hogwarts already. Suddenly he realised the Dark Lord had not spoken for quite some time. Lucius forced his neck to stretch so he could look at the eye. It was impossible to read any emotions coming from it, but Crouch was frowning heavily in deep concentration.

'You found him at a Workhouse?' The tone was very strange, almost curious with a touch of … sadness? Lucius blinked to regain his focus.

'Yes, My Lord. He was the right age and he had no parents to claim him.'

'You do not know who is parents are.'

'No, My Lord, I have tried to discover it, but there are no records and no one of his name living anywhere near the Workhouse.'

'And what is his true name?'

'Patton, Sir, Harry Patton. He is no one, harmless, he is completely in my control.' Perhaps he could convince the Dark Lord that Harry could be useful. Another long silence followed. 'Get up.' Lucius pushed himself to his knees and then to his feet. He swayed, but stayed upright. Crouch was still sitting.

'You will bring the boy to me when I am ready.'

'My Lord?' Lucius' mind was immediately calculating how long it would take to get Harry, Draco and himself out of the country.

'Perhaps it was destiny that brought him to you,' the Dark Lord mused. 'He has come under your influence. This is good.' A horrid gurgling chuckle escaped the hidden mouth. 'Harry Patton! No, no, he is much more than a muggle. He is the key to my power.' Lucius was stunned, a myriad of thoughts and emotions paralyzing him.

'Who, what is he, My Lord?' he managed to ask. He must know.

'He is my horcrux. Made by accident, but his body shall now complete the ritual I planned so many years ago.'

Lucius tried very hard not to faint. The eye seemed to glow red for a moment. He had heard the word horcrux before. Could any of it be true? If it was, it had serious implications Lucius needed to consider. He made his decision.

'When do you want him, My Lord?'


	20. Think Before You Act

I should be working. I have only 7 pages left to write, but they are the hardest and I'm so tired of looking up references. So instead I bring you more fanfiction. The brilliant beta **hidden_lily** has been quick, as always, and I'm sure we're all grateful for that :) That means this chapter is coming out practically on schedule. :D

I should also thank all commenters and reviewers. I know hardly ever have time to answer you all, but every one is such a joy to read, so thank you.

_Chapter 19: Think Before You Act _

Harry tried very hard not to be nervous. There was nothing different about what they were doing or how they were acting. At the same time everything was completely different. Harry would look at Draco and be aware of everything. Every look, every touch. He wanted to kiss Draco again, but did not know with absolute certainty that he would be welcome.

School soon resumed and their quiet time together was gone, and they went back to their routine.

Harry grew very frustrated. He found himself spending more time with Hermione so he wouldn't have to look at Draco constantly. Not a week had passed, however, before Draco confronted him about it. Harry was on his knees, tidying his trunk, trying to find the homework he had done during the holidays when Draco came in and shut the door, casting a locking spell.

'We need to speak,' Draco said quietly. Harry watched him cross the room and sit on his bed. Harry swallowed his trepidation and got up. He sat beside Draco, noting how similar it was to their encounter on Christmas Day. Draco didn't seem to want to begin, fiddling with the duvet and tracing the pattern with his fingers.

'We shouldn't have done … what we did.' Harry's throat closed up. He stared at Draco hard, willing the boy to look at him. No, a fierce voice suddenly rebelled inside him. He scooted closer, reached out and tilted Draco's chin up. The boy's grey eyes were glassy. Harry leaned in, noting Draco's eyes closed with obvious relief, and kissed him.

The position was uncomfortable, so Harry pressed closer, grabbed Draco's waist and tried to pull him more fully onto the bed. Draco made a whining sound, but not of complaint, and he followed Harry's lead eagerly.

Harry was high on Felix Felicis, it was the only explanation. He pressed Draco into the pillows. He felt strong, in control. Draco was shivering.

'I can't stop,' Harry gasped in between kisses.

'Then don't,' Draco breathed back, but Harry knew he should. He pulled back, staring down at Draco, whose hair was mussed and eyes even more glassy than before.

'We should slow down,' Harry said. Draco nodded. Harry put his hand on his cheek. So soft. He stole one last kiss, quick and sweet. 'But I'm never stopping,' he whispered. Suddenly, there was banging on the door. Harry jumped off, leaping over to his own bed, canceling the locking spell at the same time.

None of the boys commented on the brothers' flushed faces, but Harry shared a look with Draco that told him everything he needed to know.

XXX

Harry Potter, not Patton. The idea seemed so absurd that it must be true. It could make a man believe in destiny. Lucius refused to, but a small part of him asked the question: what were the chances? Out of all the workhouse in all of England, out of all the orphans in all the world, why this child? Had his magic known? These were questions to which Lucius Malfoy would never find answers.

The Dark Lord wanted the boy's body to fulfill the necromancy ritual and reunite the horcrux with the rest of his soul. Between necromancy and splitting the soul, Lucius knew not which he preferred. Death would have been his choice. The Dark Lord had accidentally split his soul, and now he was willingly using just as dark magic to bring himself back from where no man or creature should come.

The boy's soul, however, would have to be destroyed. Two souls could not inhabit the same mortal vessel. Quirrel was proof enough of that, and Crouch would soon follow. Lucius knew Peter Pettigrew had been chosen to be the next vessel if the ritual had not been completed by the time of Crouch's death. The rat pretended to be honored, but Lucius knew he was petrified. Even more so than usual.

The Dark Lord had only one concern: to wait or not to wait. Harry Potter's body was not fully developed, and there was a chance that the physical body might not continue to grow once it had gone through such a violation of the natural order of things. The Dark Lord was impatient, however, and so a compromise had been reached. They would wait until the summer, allowing the boy to reach his fifteenth year and then feed him whatever growth potions were needed to complete the process.

Harry had until the end of the summer. One last summer of existence. Harry Potter, the boy who lived through the Killing Curse. That part was as yet unexplained. Lucius could not understand how a wizard could survive it, let alone a child, a mere babe. The Dark Lord seemed unconcerned with such details. All he focused on was getting his own body and his power back. In the meantime all Death Eaters were instructed to open up old channels of influence, as well as new recruitment. War would come soon.

Lucius found himself sitting in his study, going over the letters from Mr. Baines and wondering what on earth he had been thinking. Risking his respectability within the pureblood community to improve conditions for muggles? Unemployed, lazy muggles. The muggleborns had to be found and protected, that much was commendable, but to continue advising the Poor Law Board and to cultivate an intimate relationship with its very muggle president was simply insane. He burned all records, watching his work go up in flames. It was for the best. It had been a momentary lapse of sanity. His Lord had returned now, and he would find his true self again.

The last letter he burned was a copy of the letter he had written to the first workhouse he had ever visited, informing the Master and Matron of his impending visit and search for an orphan boy he might take into foster care. As he burned it, Lucius regretted that decision more than anything he had ever done.

XXX

The year progressed in a blur to Harry. Professor Moody had not returned, and the new temporary Defence teacher was incompetent. Harry practiced and studied in secret as he always had, but felt a nagging need to tell Draco of his fascination with the subject.

They continued to sleep together. Nothing happened beyond shared kisses, but falling asleep with Draco in his arms rather than beside him was a more than welcome change.

Harry felt he should be a gentleman, but at that same time he knew it the name was impossible to apply to him. A gentleman would not be sharing kisses with another boy. Draco never said anything about stopping, however, and Harry wasn't going to bring it up either.

'We should be studying,' Draco whispered one evening as they lay on the bed, Harry on top as had become their way. Harry kissed him again. 'Exams are right around the corner.'

'They're weeks off yet,' Harry countered, kissing down Draco's neck. He wanted more. Kissing Draco always gave him that drug-like feeling while at the same time a sense of control. But he wanted more of both.

'We- we should study.' Harry pulled back just enough to look Draco in the eye.

'Do you want me to stop?' he asked. Draco swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.

'Do you?'

'No,' Harry answered immediately, making Draco's eyes go wide. Harry leaned down, their noses almost touching. He felt wild and crazy, but good. 'Tell me to stop.'

'I can't,' Draco whispered, closing his eyes and arching his back, silently asking Harry to continue. He did so joyfully and with abandon. They were never going to stop, Harry was sure of it. He wouldn't let that happen. He knew he should be scared of what would happen if someone found them out, but he couldn't.

Draco felt elated. He felt like a character in one of those muggle romance novels he had researched. He knew he should be ashamed, letting himself be treated this way, but he couldn't feel that. He could only feel Harry on top of him, pressing him down, stealing his kisses.

XXX

'I'm going to say goodbye to Hermione,' Harry announced around halfway back to London. They had a private compartment, as they always did.

'Fine.' Draco said. He was staring at his book, already doing his summer assignments. He never spoke about Harry's continued relationship with Hermione. After his apology and acceptance of Harry's muggleborn blood, Harry hadn't wanted to bring up the subject.

'Do you want to come?'

'No.' Harry left it at that and went in search of her. He found her with Ronald Weasley and Neville Longbottom. Harry had heard the story of the boy's parents from fellow Slytherins, but he had not had much contact with him. Hermione smiled at him as he entered; the boys stayed silent.

'I just came to wish you a good summer,' Harry explained, sitting down beside her.

'That was nice of you,' she replied. 'I'm actually going to visit Ron's family this year.' Harry's eyebrows shot up at the news. He glanced at the redhead, who was a little red in the face and staring out the window.

'Why didn't you tell me?'

'I didn't get permission until last night. It took quite some time to convince my parents, but I told them it was vital that I learn how a wizarding family lives. My mother is coming too, however, as she just couldn't let me go alone. The Weasleys are very generous to let us both come.'

'Indeed, but why did she insist on coming? Won't it be strange for her, with magic all around?'

'You know how it is,' Hermione said quietly, glancing at Ronald. 'She doesn't understand how one can be equal friends with a boy.' Somehow, Harry doubted they were just friends by the blushes going around. Neither of them were of high standing, however, so a visit wouldn't garner any attention whatsoever. Ronald had no marriage contract waiting for him upon graduation. For a moment, Harry was jealous. He dreaded the day Lucius informed them of Draco's impending nuptials.

'Well I hope you have a nice time,' Harry said sincerely. 'Have a good summer, Weasley, Longbottom,' he added as he stood. They both mumbled their responses. Harry kissed Hermione on the cheek and left. When he reached the compartment he stood for a moment and stared at Draco. One day he would be watching his fake brother marry some girl, he was sure of it. If only they could run away, he thought, giving in to a chuckle at his own ridiculousness. Draco looked up from his book.

'What do you find amusing?' he asked.

'Nothing. Nothing at all.' They rode the rest of the journey in silence.

XXX

Two weeks in and Harry was already keen on getting back to Hogwarts. Draco was being very annoying. For some reason he was more afraid of his single parent finding them in a giant manor than hundreds of students at Hogwarts. Harry was getting increasingly frustrated with the few stolen kisses before bed - his own bed, without company. Draco insisted, however. They couldn't perform locking spells, Lucius wouldn't allow it and he would sense wards being erected within the building.

One evening they had just retired after a day of playing one-on-one Quidditch. Harry had caught three snitches to Draco's two. Lucius had been out all day so they had dined alone. Not a single kiss, however, for the walls had eyes - well, the painting did in the dining room. Back in their room, however, with no paintings besides the old Quidditch posters they had long ago silenced permanently after growing bored with them, Harry decided he was sick of waiting. He couldn't go the whole summer like this.

Draco was reading in bed. Harry approached quietly, then he snatched the book from the boy's hands, ignoring the boy's 'hey!' in favour of pushing him back on the bed and kissing him senseless.

'Harry, no, we mustn't, father might be home, you know he'll come check on us at any moment,' Draco babbled between kisses, which he was passionately reciprocating. Harry pulled back.

'Tell me to stop,' he said. Draco panted several times, grabbed the back of Harry's neck and pulled him down again. The action caused Harry's stomach to do a flip, and he kissed Draco more deeply than ever before. He didn't like the pressure on the back of his neck after a while, however, and grabbed Draco's hands, pressing them into the pillow. Draco moaned loudly and arched his back in pleasure and Harry reveled in it.

They snogged heavily, uncaring of the world. That was their biggest mistake.

Lucius Malfoy ascended the steps wearily. It had been a long day at the Ministry, maintaining old friendships and getting introductions to new people. He knew it was rather late, but he was certain the boys were up. He needed to see them.

Just in case they had fallen asleep early, he put a silencing spell on the door so it was certain not to creak. He poked his head in-

The boys- no, they could no longer be boys. Boys didn't do that. Harry was holding his son's hands above his head, keeping him in place. Draco's back was arched, clearly begging for freedom. Lucius' rational mind shut down in an instant.

'What is the meaning of this!' Lucius thundered. Harry jumped off like a startled cat, backing away from the bed. He was horrified by the discovery, that much was clear.

'You,' Lucius' rage was building as he pointed his finger at Harry, 'you dare-' he couldn't even speak. He took out his wand and shot a blasting curse at the fireplace. The marble shattered with a great crack.

'Father!' Draco cried.

'NOT A WORD!' Lucius roared. He rounded on Harry again. 'You, you.'

'I didn't mean-'

'DO NOT SPEAK! I saved you, I brought you into my home from that filthy, despicable place and this is how you repay me? By- by ASSAULTING my son? You disgusting mudblood!' Lucius went to the bed, checking over Draco for any hurt. The boy was babbling something, but Lucius couldn't hear. Suddenly, Harry was moving. He tore open his closet and pulled out a cloak, then grabbed a small purse from his trunk, along with his wand.

'STOP!' Lucius ordered, turning around, but Harry was running for the door. Lucius tore after him. He followed down the hallway, the stairs and towards the fireplace connected to the Floo. Lucius couldn't keep up; the youth was too quick. Harry grabbed the powder from the mantle.

'STOP THIS INSTANT!' Lucius roared, raising his wand, but Harry had already thrown it in. He jumped in straight after, giving a great cry of 'Diagon Alley!' and was gone.

Lucius was momentarily made speechless by the boy's actions. He gathered his wits about him quickly, however, and grabbed the powder.

'Father!' Draco came running in. 'Please, stop.'

'Stay here,' Lucius ordered.

'Please, Father, you do not understand-'

'STAY PUT!' He stepped in and followed his wayward charge, anxiety beginning to take over his previous madness. If the Dark Lord discovered what he had done by his foolish reaction things would be very difficult indeed. If something happened to Harry- dear Merlin, what had he done?

The Leaky Cauldron was full of happy shoppers taking a break from the summer sun. Lucius pushed his way through the crowd to the barkeep.

'Did you see a boy come through just now? Dark hair, green eyes, about this high?' Lucius showed with his hand. The boy had grown much, being now two inches taller than Draco.

'Yes, Sir,' the man replied easily, 'ran out into the muggle world.' Lucius' heart sank, but he quickly turned around and hurried for the door. The street beyond was almost empty, but he followed it to St. Giles Circus, turning his head this way and that, but without luck. Here the crowd was thicker and Lucius almost started cursing the muggles, going about their day as if nothing earth-shattering had happened.

Finally, he stopped, staring unseeing at the ground. Harry was gone. Harry Potter was missing. He had not yet learned to Apparate, but the boy was clever, and hardy in a way Draco was not. Lucius had no doubt Harry would find a way to survive and escape far away in the muggle world, despite not having been in it since he was six.

Lucius' only hope was that he made a mistake, and to call on his friends in the muggle world for assistance in the boy's recovery.

XXX

Harry fell into the Leaky Cauldron, but the crowd prevented him from falling to the floor. He spent two seconds deciding on his next move, then he spotted the barkeep and a very Slytherin idea struck him. He couldn't outrun Lucius in this crowd, and he needed to stay in the wizarding world just a few moments longer. He pushed his way to the bar, taking coins from his purse and slamming them down in front of the barkeep. It was worth ten drinks at least and the man's eyebrows rose.

'When a man comes asking for me, could you tell him I ran into the muggle street?' he asked, keeping his hand on the money until he got his answer.

'Sure thing,' he man answered with a shrug and Harry released the man's reward. He ran in the opposite direction, into Diagon Alley, and made his way quickly to the bank. If he was going to escape, he needed the right kind of currency.

He had known Lucius' reaction would be … violent, but he hadn't known how hurt he would be. Back to the workhouse he was not going, however.

He sent a silent wish to the magics that Draco would forgive him for running. He had no choice, as far as he could see.


	21. Coming Home

Hello all! I'm back! Some of you may have read on my livejournal about my little swan-dive over my bike. I'm still not 100% again, but my hand can type so at least I can enjoy writing fanfiction again :) Here you go!

**Beta**: **hidden_lily** Thanks so much for your hard work :)

Chapter 20: Coming Home

After exchanging every last galleon he had with muggle currency, Harry found himself standing in the middle of a muggle street with very little idea of where he was in the world. He knew he was close to someplace called St. Giles, if he remembered correctly, which he was far from sure he did.

One thing he did know: he needed to get a lot farther away from London, preferably in the direction of an old workhouse. Harry just knew he needed to see the place again, to remind himself of how far he had come and that even if he could now never go home, the home he had lost was better than the one he had been rescued from.

Trying not to think about the person he had left behind, he started walking. He knew Lucius could be about so he tried to find a cab, but there were none around. Somerset House - this was a place Lucius had mentioned, but Harry had no idea in which direction it was or how far. He wandered down Oxford Street, turning his head so much his neck soon hurt. The people were so … inexplicable. Harry was sure he should feel some connection to them, having thought he was one of them until the age of eleven, but no such feelings emerged within him.

He did feel overwhelmed, but tried to stay focused and not panic. A man in horrid rags suddenly grabbed his sleeve, coughing and mumbling something unintelligible. Harry reared back in shock, pulling his arm free and hurrying down the street. Georgian homes with shop fronts lined the street. The people, the horses, the rolling of wheels - it all seemed deafening to Harry. The street appeared never-ending.

Finally, he found a cab and asked to be taken to the workhouse, but the man would not travel that far from London. Harry was dismayed. In the end he asked to be taken to Somerset House. It was risky, but Harry reasoned that the muggles Lucius Malfoy could allow himself to walk among might know more and be much more amiable to help Harry get to his destination.

It took ages compared to Harry's usual means of transportation, but the feeling of the rocking carriage brought back memories. He saw himself eagerly peaking through to the outside world for the first time, forgetting he was being watched by his new owner. He remembered the sight of Malfoy Manor for the first time - he could never forget that - and the awe he had felt. Now, as he stepped out and looked up at Somerset House he felt some of that awe again. Wizarding buildings tended to lean which way they wanted, being kept up more by magic than architectural design. Even Hogwarts' towers seemed to curve depending on the weather or other factors. The city of London felt so solid, like it was all carved out of the same rock. Somerset House loomed like a columned mountain. There was a church nearby, Harry recognised the steeple for what it was, and it too was straight as an arrow to the sky.

Suddenly very unsure of himself, Harry turned away and looked in every direction. He felt overcome with loneliness.

'Draco,' he whispered. 'Where am I?' How could Mr. Malfoy react so violently? Harry didn't fancy himself under any delusions, but he had hoped Mr. Malfoy cared for him at least a little. He had never shown anything but kindness to the little orphan boy he had rescued. Then again, Harry had been kissing his son quite forcefully.

'Young man, you seem to have an utterly lost look about you,' a man's voice remarked. Harry looked up to find a pair of kind eyes in a kind, clean-shaven face. The clothes were clearly expensive: a black frock coat, double breasted and a purple necktie could be seen. He wore a top hat and had a cane, much like Mr. Malfoy, but he had a jolliness in him Harry found instantly appealing.

'Yes, Sir, I am terribly lost,' Harry confessed. His long robe was easily dismissed as a long coat, and though not in fashion especially in the summer weather, it would not cause a stir. The man frowned in sympathy.

'Perhaps I might be of assistance? Where are you heading?'

'A Workhouse, Sir,' Harry told him, telling him the name of the village, in the West Country; that much he knew.

'Why on earth would you wish to go there?' the man exclaimed.

'I need…' Harry hung his head in shame. 'I was born there.' The man's silence made Harry think that help would not be forthcoming. He decided to continue despite this, 'I was rescued by a kind gentleman who raised me alongside his own son and now I wish to see the place again … to try and find my true origins.'

'I see … well, I'm afraid I don't know much about Workhouses,' the man said, not unkindly. 'But I do know someone who is a good friend of Mr. Baines. Have you heard of him?' Harry raised his head, bewildered.

'No, Sir.'

'He is the President of the Poor Law Board. I'm sure he can tell you how to get there.' Harry couldn't help the smile blooming on his face.

'Will you help me speak to him, Sir?'

'I will indeed,' the man smiled and Harry felt hope flare in this chest.

XXX

Draco lay on the bed as if dead. What had he done? What had they done? What had his stupid father done? Draco cared not about the tears streaming down his face. All he knew was that his father would catch Harry and then punish him horribly, perhaps even send him away forever. Draco was sure he wouldn't survive it, not if the ache in his chest got any worse.

Harry. Gone. It was the most unjust thing Draco had ever thought or imagined. Just because they shared a few kisses. How could this be? Maybe if he just closed his eyes and pretended, he would eventually wake up and see Harry was still sleeping in his bed and everything was all right.

He heard the distant Floo through the open door and then, a full five minutes later, the soft creak on the stairs. Without a thought he was up and out of the room, flying down the hallway without a broom. His father was on the bottom step, head down and one hand gripping the banister. He looked utterly defeated and Draco shivered at the sight. Slowly, the man looked up.

'Go back to your room,' he said without inflection.

'Where is Harry?' Draco had to ask, consequences be damned.

'He is no longer your concern, nor your friend. He is nothing to you.'

You are wrong, Draco thought savagely, he is everything.

'But I need him,' the words slipped out like water through desperate hands. Lucius' face hardened.

'You need to do as I say and never even think the boy's name!' Draco could see his father visibly trying to calm himself.

'How could you?' Draco asked, knowing he should stay silent, but unable to do so. For once in his life he felt righteous. 'He's family.'

'No,' Lucius shook his head. 'He is a mudblood orphan who has wormed his way inside this family and corrupted it from within.' He began ascending the stairs slowly. Draco was shaking with the effort of not backing away. His father's eyes were hard as steel. Never before had Draco been afraid of him, but that still did not stop his words from slipping out. Just as Lucius reached the second step from the top, close enough to be eye level with his son, Draco bowed his head and the words slipped out.

'But I love him.' So quiet, like a confession to a priest. When no reaction came Draco decided to let it all flow. 'I've loved him as a friend, as a brother and now as … the most precious of all. I cannot stop it. I know you loved him too, but you are right. He is not part of this family. He is too good for it.' With that his courage was spent and Draco turned and ran, locking his door and hoping his father would decide to curse objects and not him.

XXX

Harry was jolted awake by a rather large stone hitting the wheel of the carriage. He rubbed his eyes and then stared out over the rolling countryside. The gentleman Harry had met in front of Somerset House, a Mr. Steward, had delivered Harry into the safe hands of his good friend Mr. Pickering, who in turn had managed to get Harry into Mr. Baines office. The man had been sympathetic when the story, now with several exaggerations thanks to Mr. Steward's sense of drama, had been relayed to him by Mr. Pickering. He had sent word to a friend living not far from the small town Harry was searching for to expect a young gentleman, a good friend making an inspection at the local Workhouse. Harry would travel to the Workhouse, make an informal visit with a letter from Mr. Baines himself to ensure his entry, and then proceed to the house of Mr. Baines' friend for the night. Harry had protested at first, saying it was too much, but Mr. Baines had insisted. All he asked in return was a report on Harry's findings, explaining how improved the Workhouse conditions and running were thanks to the Poor Law Board. The testimony of a former inmate, now a fine young gentleman who had improved his situation in every way, would carry a lot of weight. An exchange of favours was something Harry had no trouble understanding, and he readily agreed.

He had been conducted to an Inn not far from Mr. Baines' office and told his journey would begin early the next morning. Now it was well into the afternoon the next day, and Harry was beginning to wonder if he would ever arrive. How did muggles manage to live their whole lives so slowly? It was extremely frustrating.

Finally, Harry's destination was in clear view and his stomach did a painful lurch. The brick building was exactly as in Harry's dreams. The high walls seemed at once to surround him again, suffocating. It took him several moments to realise the driver was holding out his hand to help him out. Harry tried to control the shaking in his hands as he approached the gate.

One hour later…

Despite his mixture of hope, anxiety and inevitableness, Harry's visit to his childhood left him empty and without a single answer. No one who worked there now had been there long enough to remember his coming, and if they had, why should they remember him? The children looked as listless as he remembered himself being, but his desire to help them was overshadowed by his own disappointment. Why had Lucius Malfoy chosen him out of all the rabble? All Harry knew was that he would need quite a bit of imagination in his report to the Poor Law Board.

He returned to the carriage and the driver told him it was only an hour's drive to his nighttime accommodations. Harry stared vacantly at the passing town, then farms and a small woodland. The lane was bumpy and despite the nice weather Harry found it all rather dreary. They passed a large empty field, overgrown with tall grass everywhere, and remnants of a house in the middle. Harry's heart gave a jolt, and his scar seemed to twitch.

'Stop! Driver, please, stop a moment!' he cried. The man pulled the reigns and the carriage came to an uneasy stop. Harry jumped down. 'Please, can you wait?'

'I'm your driver, young Sir, I'll wait as long as you wish,' the man said kindly, as if understanding Harry wasn't used to people doing as he asked. Harry thanked him and ventured into the field. He thought he saw an old trodden path winding through the tall grass and followed it as best he could.

There had been a rather large house here once. Harry walked around the old foundation, finding the place where the door had once stood. The floorboards were still intact! They had just been obscured by the tall grass and remaining brick. Harry imagined where the kitchen might have been, where the family might have sat around the fireplace.

Why had this place drawn him? There was energy here … magic? Harry was so used to magic around him, as every wizard was, that he took its energy for granted. Only skilled wizards could feel such remnants of magics lingering in places.

He found what must have been the entry to the underground basement. The handle was laid into the floor and Harry pulled it open easily and the hinges didn't even creak. There was no dust on the square door and the stairs down into the darkness were well worn yet seemed new compared to the floorboards. Harry instinctively drew his wand. He slowly climbed down into a large space, far enough beneath the surface for a man to stand comfortably. Harry could hear no movement, so he decided on a small lumos. The moment he could see his surroundings he knew for certain someone was living here. It was a poor man's home, but well-kept and neat if not completely clean. There was a made bed in the far corner with an old box of some sort for a bedside table. On it lay a book, which Harry found very strange. Perhaps an out-of-work tutor? A large trunk, eerily reminiscent of his own trunk at home- no, no longer his home - stood at the end. There was an old door on two small barrels serving as a desk, with several books stacked neat on one side. A half dozen boxes were stacked to the other side, some filled with jars, fresh herbs and vegetables, no doubt stolen from nearby farms. There was a large cauldron too, sitting upside down.

Harry picked up one of the books and gasped: it was a magical theory book. He checked another: a muggle novel. Perhaps it was someone in exile, like him? Then again, it was more likely an outcast, maybe someone dangerous. Harry cancelled his lumos and hurried upstairs. He jogged slightly to the carriage.

'How far to the house from here?' he asked.

'Oh, just up the road there,' the driver replied, pointing up ahead. 'No more than ten minutes.'

'Could you ride on without me?' Harry asked. 'I could use the walk to clear my head.'

'Are you sure?' the man asked. 'It's getting a little chilly.' Hardly chilly with warming charms, but Harry wasn't going to mention that.

'Yes, please give them my apologies for being so late.'

'I'm sure they'll understand, Mr. Patton,' the driver said, taking Harry's desire to walk as a sign of a trying experience at the Workhouse. 'I'll tell them, if you're sure?'

'Thank you, I'll be right after.' With that the driver urged the horses on and was soon gone into the trees. Harry turned back to the old house. Where to wait? He walked around the entire clearing, trying to find a path and sure enough, through the small wood a path went straight towards the old house. Harry positioned himself in some bushes with a good view of the path and the entrance to the basement.

Then he waited.

But not for long. Not fifteen minutes had passed before Harry heard the soft treading of feet. A man appeared; he looked aged beyond his years and tired, wearing old but proper clothes. A worker's trousers, though he was no such thing, and a nice knitted vest could be seen under the wizard robe. The man's hair was clearly graying prematurely. He had a kind face, Harry thought, despite the need for a shave and a bath. He walked purposefully towards the ruins, but stopped short. Was he sniffing? Harry tensed, gripping his wand tightly when he saw the man draw his.

'Who is there?' the man called. He turned, appearing to sniff again before stepping towards Harry's location. His wand was not raised, and he kept it half hidden behind his right thigh. Harry hesitated. The man came closer still. 'I know someone is here,' he said. He was only a few feet away. Harry made his choice. He sprang to his feet, wand raised and ready to fight. The man froze.

'Don't move,' Harry said. He felt full of adrenaline. He hadn't felt like this since that dog/man had chased him in third year. It was terrifying, but he wasn't afraid - he couldn't explain it. The man was giving him the strangest look, as if he had seen a ghost.

'James?' the man gasped the name like a deity. The man's hand barely held on to his wand. Clearly, he did not intend to fight, but Harry kept his wand raised nevertheless.

'No, my name is Harry.'

'Harry? No, it can't be….' The man took a step back, almost staggering under the weight of some knowledge. Harry was getting increasingly nervous. A duel he could handle, but this crazy wizard was disturbing. 'Fourteen years … yes, the right age … but, how?'

'What are you talking about?'

'You are Harry Potter…?'

'No, Harry Patton.' The man stepped closer suddenly, staring at Harry with wide, desperate eyes.

'But you have your mother's eyes!' he cried, coming closer. Harry brandished his wand.

'Back! Stay back!'

'Why are you here, if you are not him?' The man seemed to visibly force himself to calm down, but his eyes were full of hope and despair equally.

'I…' Harry was at a loss. How to explain the energy that drew him here? 'I grew up at the Workhouse, until I was six. I came here to…' Harry shook his head. This was insanity, all of it. He had come here to escape, to somehow erase his whole life and forget that Lucius Malfoy should have cared more for him after all these years. He came here to bury his overwhelming disappointment in all things Malfoy.

'The Workhouse?' the man asked with disbelief. 'But you are a wizard.'

'I was rescued by a wizard, though he didn't know I was muggleborn at the time. He was very kind to send me to Hogwarts.'

'There can be no other explanation,' the man said with an air of finality. 'You are Harry Potter.'

'My name is Patton.' The man shook his head and Harry huffed at his stubbornness.

'And mine is Remus Lupin,' the man said, smiling now and bowing his head in greeting. He put away his wand. 'I knew Lily and James Potter, people you bear a remarkable resemblance to. They lived here,' he lifted his arm in a wide arch encompassing the whole field. Harry's wand shook slightly and he lowered it a little.

'What happened to them?' Harry asked. Potter… wasn't that the name of the last family to die at the Dark Lord's hand before his disappearance?

'They were murdered,' Lupin said with a deep sadness. 'Along with their little boy, only one year old, named Harry.'

Harry. A little boy named Harry Potter. Someone must have mentioned the child's name, the one who had died that infamous night, but Harry couldn't recall anyone mentioning it. It just hadn't seemed important.

'You have her eyes,' Lupin said with a tiny smile, 'and your father's hair.'

'No- no, my parents were muggles.'

'Do you know that for certain?' Harry's wand lowered even more.

'Yes, yes of course.' He couldn't look Lupin in the eye. It was too much. He let his wand hand fall to his side.

'When did you come to live at the Workhouse?'

'The records say I was approximately one year old, the only characteristic noted was a scar,' Harry's empty hand came up to touch it- it was still itching, 'on my forehead.' Lupin remained silent while Harry's head was spinning. Could it be? A wizarding family murdered, only a few miles from a Union Workhouse. A baby found, perhaps by a neighbour? He had passed a farm a little way down the lane. Was there a chance they had delivered the newly orphaned babe to the Workhouse? Had he finally found his true origin? Did he dare to believe it?

'Harry?' The young man looked up into the kind face. 'You are Harry Potter. I am certain of it.' He sounded so sincere. 'I feel it in my bones, in my magic. Why did you come here of all places if not to discover your lineage?'

'I … I don't know.'

'Come,' Lupin gestured for him to follow, and Harry couldn't help his curiosity. He put his wand away; Lupin could have disarmed him several times over with Harry's distracted mind miles away. They went to the ruins and Lupin opened the door to the basement. Harry was a little uneasy when going down first, but Lupin was right behind him, lighting several torches with his wand and transfiguring an empty box into a usable chair.

'Please, sit.' Harry sat, while Lupin took the bed. He dug under it and took out a small tin box.

'Uh, Sir, I don't mean to be rude, but why are you living here?'

'Call me Remus, please,' Lupin said, ignoring the question. He took out a photograph from the box and held it out. Harry took it and stared at the moving people, who were smiling happily and oblivious to the storm inside the viewer.

It was a wedding. A happy one, not one of convenience. Harry wasn't one to often gaze on his reflection, but even he could see the resemblance to James Potter. Lily was so beautiful, and her green eyes sparked at him. Remus Lupin stood to one side and … Sirius Black to the other.

'Black. He betrayed them,' Harry whispered, remembering the tale so often told by young wizards in the dark to scare each other. Dear Merlin. It was too much. He squeezed his eyes shut. He had killed the man who had betrayed- dare he think it? - his parents. He felt no satisfaction in knowing this, only the same dread as before with the realisation that he had taken a life.

'Yes,' Remus said sadly. 'For years I didn't want to believe it. He was such a dear friend. Sometimes I still don't believe it. When I heard of his escape and death … I couldn't help but mourn him.'

Harry couldn't confess what he had done to this kind and strange man.

'These are my parents…?' Harry still couldn't quite believe it.

'Yes,' Remus said softly. 'They are. I know it. It must be true, and I'm sure they are proud of you. It's quite extraordinary. How could you possibly have survived? What are the chances that you should get to be at Hogwarts? Yet, here you are, a fine young wizard.' Harry finally dragged his eyes away from the photograph and looked up at Remus' smiling face. He blushed slightly at the compliment. 'Who was it that found you at the Workhouse?'

Even though Harry dreaded saying the name, simply because he did not want to think about the man, he did not think to lie. Why should he? Let the whole world know who had taken in an orphan from a muggle Workhouse. So he forced himself to say, 'Lucius Malfoy.'

The smile on Remus Lupin's face dropped instantly.


	22. Talking It Out

_Hello all. I would have updated sooner, but there's been something wrong with my email, but now it's fixed and the chapter is nice and long. Enjoy! :) _

**Beta**: **hidden_lily** Thanks so much for your hard work :)

Note: Thank you so much to everyone who has commented/reviewed and wished me a swift recovery :) It's going well.

_Chapter 21: Talking it Out_

Remus stared blankly at Harry for a long moment. So long, in fact, that Harry began to worry.

'You … were taken in … by Lucius Malfoy?' Remus asked very slowly.

'Yes, when I was around six. Draco, his son, is the same age.' Harry looked down at his knees, feeling shame despite himself. 'I was originally intended to be a muggle playmate. I was instructed to always follow Draco's orders, though perhaps our actual interaction wasn't quite according to Mr. Malfoy's plan. We became friends….' Harry's gaze drifted across the room. 'Then our Hogwarts letters came … he wasn't pleased. I'm not sure what he thought, but he told me I had to pretend to be a Malfoy. He didn't want anyone to know he took in an orphan muggle boy who was really a muggleborn wizard.'

Harry took a breath. It felt cathartic, telling the whole tale to someone outside of it all.

'Lucius Malfoy,' Remus repeated the name, causing Harry to look at him. His eyes looked vacant. Slowly, he shook his head, then glanced at Harry sharply. 'You pretended to be a Malfoy at Hogwarts?'

'Yes,' Harry nodded. 'It was fairly easy. We pretended to be twins separated at birth due to inheritance issues. Mr. Malfoy then blamed his wife's attachment to me as an excuse to give me a proper education. I have to sign away any right to the inheritance of course, when I come of age… well, not anymore…'

'How so?' Harry shifted uncomfortably. Remus Lupin seemed familiar with Lucius Malfoy. Would he try to contact him? It seemed silly to stop now when so much of the truth had already come out.

'I ran away,' Harry said simply, back to staring at his knees again. 'And I know I won't be welcome there again.'

'Why not?' Remus sounded concerned, but there was one secret Harry was not about to tell.

'I'm not comfortable discussing it. Suffice it to say, I cannot go back.' Suddenly, Remus reached out and grabbed Harry's hand. Harry met the man's eyes, full of kindness and concern. It was rather odd; Harry had not been around people he would classify as "kind".

'I'm sorry you had to run away from home.' Harry was perceptive enough to notice the way Remus hesitated ever so slightly on the last word. 'But I am very grateful to have found you. It is as if you walked like a ghost out of this house and into the land of the living again.' Harry glanced around the old basement, his brows furrowing in thought.

'I have heard the story of the Dark Lord's last night.' Harry missed the flinch Remus couldn't suppress at the name he used for You-Know-Who. 'But I never knew the house was destroyed so completely … if I truly am the Potters' son, how in Merlin's name did I survive? And why are you living here, underground no less?' Remus sighed, letting go of Harry's hand and summoning a kettle and two mugs from the boxes. He found some tealeaves and made two cups. Harry had never seen a wizard heat a kettle while floating it - house elves always made their tea - and he thought it was rather neat. He knew, of course, that Remus was doing so to consider his answers carefully.

'As to your first question,' Remus began once they were both sipping their tea, 'I do not know. Something must have protected you, perhaps you weren't in the house at the time, perhaps one of your parents got you out. Very little is known about that night. If you came to be at the Workhouse it is likely some muggles found you before Albus arrived - he was the first on the scene.'

'Headmaster Dumbledore, you mean?' Remus nodded. For some reason the information settled uneasily in Harry's stomach.

'As to your second question…' Remus gave a great sigh again. 'I should repay your honesty, and I cannot begin our relationship with a lie. I hope, however, that you can keep an open mind.' Harry was about to open his mouth to question him, but then Remus completed his thought. 'I am cursed with lycanthropy.' Harry could not contain his reaction. He reared back, reaching for his wand and leaping to his feet. Remus' eyes were the saddest Harry had ever seen on a grown man. He lowered his head as if awaiting Harry's curse.

Werewolves were not allowed to roam free in the wizarding world. There were strict laws, going back centuries, that made it legal for any wizard to capture a suspected werewolf and turn him in to the authorities. It used to be legal to kill them, but some changes had been made. A poor amount of progress according to some advocates, who wanted them regulated but essentially free.

Harry thought it was rather unfair to imprison people who had been bitten through no fault of their own, and were dangerous only once a month, but what was the alternative? They simply couldn't be allowed to roam free. It was people like Remus who made it impossible to destroy the disease.

Yet, looking at Remus Lupin, Harry couldn't help but think: were they really so different? Forced to flee because of what they were. There were most definitely people out there who wanted Harry locked away for kissing a boy, or even for being a muggleborn in some cases.

'You roam free in these woods every month?' Harry asked. How could such a kind man do something so horrible? What about the surrounding farmers?

'No,' Remus said, and the tone of his voice made Harry believe him. 'I have a place, in the forest. A second basement of sorts. It's completely secure. Albus taught me the spells himself when I was at Hogwarts.' Harry took in this information. Neither of them moved from their positions.

'You were cursed when you were at Hogwarts?'

'Yes, I was bitten when I was seven.' Harry's stomach gave a painful flip. How could anyone so young survive a bite? The pain alone … Harry lowered his wand. Remus must have seen it for he raised his head slowly. 'Your father knew. He and Sirius figured it out by our third year.' Father, the word meant so little to Harry. He had been forced to refer to Mr. Malfoy as father for years at Hogwarts, but he had always reminded himself that it was a lie.

'How did they react?' Remus gave a soft smile, surprising Harry.

'They were very supportive. I thought at first they would turn me in, but they didn't. In fact, they did everything they could to help me deal with it, even becoming Animagus to help me.'

'Animagus? What animals were they?' The skill was rare even among full-grown wizards, but to perform the transformation while still in school… Harry knew many people distrusted people who were animagus, and the skill was not generally advertised. Harry, however, had only ever felt awe when hearing stories about great wizards turning into their animal alter-ego. Harry sat down so he could listen more carefully, and Remus seemed to sense his eagerness for he smiled indulgently.

'You father was a magnificant stag,' he said with much pride. Harry tried to feel some sort of emotion himself, and thought he might be a little proud himself. His father … a powerful animagus… 'Peter, a dear friend also you may not have heard of, was a rat, but still very useful in a tight place,' Remus' smile turned mischievous, then abruptly sad. 'And Sirius was a great dog. He liked to refer to himself as a hellhound.' How many times in one day could the bottom drop out of Harry's stomach? So many twists and turns in one day. This wasn't really new, either, just uncomfortable. In his mind's eye he saw the statue hit the dog, and then the slow transformation, the realisation that he had taken a life. 'Harry?'

Harry's head snapped to attention. 'Are you all right?'

'Yes, fine…'

'He was a good man, once. You-Know-Who corrupted him.' Harry allowed Remus to believe that was the only reason for his discomfort. Clearly the man was only vaguely familiar with current news, or he might have heard just who exactly had ended the escaped convict's life. As it was, Harry was not going to inform that man. They sat in silence for a moment. Harry tried to come to terms with everything he had learned today. Suddenly, he stood. Remus raised inquisitive eyes to him.

'I have to go, I've stayed far too long already.' Remus got up when Harry made for the stairs.

'Go where? I've only just found you.' Harry stopped with one foot on the bottom stair.

'I'm expected somewhere. A muggle-' Harry shook his head. 'It doesn't matter, I suppose.' He glanced around the basement. 'But I don't think I can stay here.' For the first time Remus seemed slightly ashamed. 'Can't we stay at a muggle place?' The werewolf shifted uneasily.

'I am not at ease when I stay with other people, muggle or wizard…. But I do on occasion, when I find work, though they seem to sense something is odd about me so I can never stay too long in one place. That is why I come back here, for the full moons, if nothing else.' Remus made a resigned gesture with his hand as if to say it was all out of his hands, which Harry supposed was the truth.

'Well, will you come with me?' Harry asked. 'The full moon was a week ago, correct?' Remus nodded. 'You can apparate us somewhere in London and we could enjoy a meal, and a talk.' For the first time, Harry felt genuine excitement at the thought of knowing more about his parents. Once again, Remus looked away with obvious shame.

'I don't have money for London, Harry.'

'I do,' Harry said easily. 'Enough for a week perhaps. I exchanged all my galleons for muggle currency.' He hadn't really thought about what he would do when the money ran out. The thought of starting a life in the muggle world was extremely distasteful to him. But what alternative was there?

'Then we should stay away from London,' Remus said. 'I will make you a deal. I will find us a cheap, but comfortable place to stay for the rest of the summer. I will tell you every story I remember about your parents. In return, you will return to Hogwarts on September first.'

'What?' Harry turned fully towards Remus again. 'I can't.'

'You must.' Remus stepped close, taking Harry's hands and shaking them emphatically. 'You cannot forsake your education now.'

'But Mr. Malfoy- when he finds out-'

'What do you think he will do?' Remus asked, a calculating look in his eye. 'Tell the world you are an impostor and expose his terrible secret to the world?' This gave Harry pause. What if he simply showed up at the Hogwarts Express and pretends nothing was wrong? It would be difficult seeing Draco again, but what could Lucius do to him at Hogwarts without exposing their secret? He would be safe there.

'And next summer?' Harry asked. Remus smiled at him; he had such a kind smile.

'We will stay hidden together. Something I am very good at.' Harry felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth and let it loose, just a little.

'All right. We have a deal.' To Harry's utter surprise, Remus swept him into a tight hug. Harry wasn't accustomed to being hugged often, much less in such a tight fashion, almost desperate. He found himself hugging back despite this, and closed his eyes. This man, werewolf or not, was exactly what he had been looking for: the key to his origin.

'I'm so glad I found you,' Remus whispered into his hair.

'Me too,' Harry answered softly.

XXX

Draco dared not venture outside his room for the rest of the summer. He did sneak out to fly, but only through the window and late at night so he could not be quite so easily spotted. He often found himself staring off into the distance, wondering where on earth Harry was, and if he would ever see the boy again.

Why had he not grabbed hold of Harry, or his father, or done anything and everything to stop him? He felt like such a coward. His mumbled confession to his father hardly counted for anything; he was locked in his room, was he not? If Harry were here he would no doubt call Draco a coward to his face. He hadn't even protested when Father had called Harry a mudblood. The word was horrid to him now; how much things could change, given time. Lucius never would, however, and Harry would never come back because of it.

A part of him resented Harry was running. A part he could not help due to his loneliness and the overwhelming sense of abandonment. Harry had said he would never leave. He had promised.

When Draco felt like that he would bury himself under his blankets, squeeze his eyes shut and imagine he was made of nothing. It didn't work very well, but it pushed back the world for a few moments.

XXX

Harry had never travelled so far in his life, especially not for so long at a time. He and Remus had been working their way north for some time, never staying in one place more than a couple of nights. It gave Harry a unique look into the muggle world. It also made him realise he had no place in it. He was a wizard. It was both a comforting and worrying thought.

Remus, as Harry now called him, told him great tales about the Marauders, all of which were likely exaggerated, but Harry hardly minded. Every day passed with him getting to know his parents. He knew he would never truly see them as flesh and blood, but a gilded image was better than no image at all.

Harry also managed to convince Remus to teach him some spells above fifth grade level. The Hogwarts graduate had disappeared from wizarding society because he feared exposure above all else. Harry had asked who could expose him, since the Marauders were now all dead save him, but Remus refused to discuss that particular subject. Harry was easily distracted with new spells anyway.

He also found it was distraction from anything Malfoy. Remus had offered an ear to listen to anything Harry had to say, but he was more inclined to just not think about it. Draco had probably been convinced by his father that Harry was to be forgotten. He did occasionally wonder if Lucius was still looking for him, but how likely was that? Lucius probably didn't even care enough to find Harry to punish him. By the time September loomed, Harry was feeling pretty good about himself and his skills. They were eating dinner somewhere in the very north of England. Harry had let Remus take care of navigating.

'Only a week left until school starts,' Remus commented casually. Anxiety shot through Harry at the thought.

'Yes,' Harry agreed, taking another sip from his ale.

'I might be tempted to go with you to Hogsmeade,' Remus said. 'It has been many years since I've seen the castle.'

'Are you sure that's a good idea?' Harry asked.

'I will risk it,' Remus said with a shrug.

'I should go alone,' Harry said, pushing his food around on his plate.

'Harry,' Remus said, his tone tired yet unmistakably fond now he had gotten to know the kind young man. 'You are going back to Hogwarts. We made a deal.' Harry slouched in his chair.

'I know … I'm dreading seeing Draco again.'

'Understandable.' No, Harry thought, you don't understand the half of it. 'But your own education is more important than anything, I hope you know that.'

'Yes,' Harry said softly, smiling a little at his companion. 'It's nice to have someone who cares still.' Remus reached out and took Harry's hand, squeezing.

'You are a credit to your parents. It's amazing you've become such a kind and brilliant young man despite everything.' Harry furrowed his brows in confusion. Remus had gone back to his meal, so he didn't see it.

'Despite everything?' he asked.

'Well, I'm sure Lucius Malfoy has resources to raise two boys, but he'snot exactly known as a kind and caring man.' Harry stilled completely, then rose from his chair. Remus looked up, startled.

'Lucius Malfoy might not project an image of puppy-hugging Hufflepuff,' Harry declared, not loudly, but firm in his conviction. 'But he did rescue me from a horrible place no child should grow up in, and he cared for me. Perhaps not like a son, but more than I ever expected, and as for being kind: He is. He might be an over-reacting bigot at times, but no more than countless other purebloods.'

'Harry,' Remus tried to interrupt, looking properly chastised.

'No, let me speak. I may not be the right person to defend him, but he isn't here to defend himself. What I did- you don't even know. So kindly reframe from speaking of the only father I have known.' At this Remus looked slightly sick. 'I'm glad I met you Remus, and I will see you again next summer I hope.' Harry reached into his pockets, dividing up the remaining money. Remus looked about to protest, but Harry silenced him by slapping the money down on the table forcefully. 'I need to be alone now. If you do decide to visit Hogsmeade, owl me.' With that Harry turned and left.

Remus sat staring sadly after him. 'Oh, Harry,' he whispered. 'How much has he corrupted you?'

XXX

Harry did not know the exact location of Hogsmeade, but Remus had taught him a pointing spell that led him in the right direction. He felt rather wild and reckless, trekking through the forest, but Remus had assured him the walk was fairly easy from the nearest muggle settlement and would only take one full day.

Harry felt like an excited first year when he finally spotted the village. It was strangely quiet, but very nice with no students around. The people seemed to be enjoying the nice weather and lack of boisterousness. Harry did not go unnoticed, but he deflected their questions by telling them he lived quite not far from them, in the muggle town and that this year his parents simply had not had the money to send him down to London for the Express. The muggle economy was in bad shape, he told them, and they easily believed him.

He spent the last few days practicing and reading. The local bookshop carried a few copies of the year's books. Harry was very glad to read, for he had thought he would never read a magic book again.

On the morning of September first Harry made his way to the castle and found the gates open. Hogwarts was shining in the lovely sun, and it felt a little like coming home. Harry made his way up the steps and inside. He heard commotion from the Great Hall and assumed the house elves were busy.

When he got to the gargoyle he politely requested if the Headmaster was in, and the staircase began to move a moment later. Headmaster Dumbledore sat behind his desk and scrutinised Harry with keen interest.

'Mr. Malfoy, a little early aren't you?' he asked with a smile. Harry had braced himself for this meeting and he did not plan to leave without the truth. Had Dumbledore known? Had he been the one to place Harry at the Workhouse, or had he simply come too late? This was a question Harry had pondered all summer.

'I had a rather unconventional summer,' he said.

'Really? Then please have a seat and tell me all about it.' Harry did so, not wanting to let Dumbledore think he had Harry rattled with his twinkling all-seeing eyes.

'I ran away from home.'

'Why would you do something like that? The world is not a very safe place for young wizards to be wandering about,' Dumbledore admonished.

'I am aware,' Harry murmured, then cleared his throat. 'My reasons are my own, but I did run into an old … friend of the family, you might say.' Finally, Dumbledore was the rattled one. Harry could see the old man was worried.

'Who might that be?'

'Remus Lupin.' Dumbledore's eyes went slightly wide, and Harry gleefully took in this shocked expression. It was the truth then, Dumbledore had known, all along. 'He complimented me on my resemblance to my father, except for the eyes. Apparently, I have my mother's eyes.'

'Mr. Malfoy-'

'Call me by my real name!' Harry hadn't realised he had yelled until the room fell silent. This man knew, it was slowly dawning on him. Why had he allowed Lucius to continue with the subterfuge for so long? Why had he not informed Lucius of his charge's true identity? Clearly, Dumbledore valued this knowledge enough to keep even Harry's foster parent in the dark. Why? Did he know how Harry had survived that night? There were too many questions floating around. He was getting dizzy.

'Mr. Potter…' Dumbledore said, his gaze lowering. 'By the time I discovered you were alive, you were already in Lucius Malfoy's care. I thought it prudent to leave you there. It would only cause you unnecessary distress to be removed so soon after you had found a comfortable home.'

'So, you did not place me at the Workhouse?' At this Dumbledore looked up sharply.

'No, I would never have- such a place is not fit for any creature. I cared deeply about James and Lily, and I would have taken you in myself if that had been the only option.' Harry could not accept this statement on faith - as a Slytherin his principles would not allow it, but he noted the sadness in Dumbledore's eyes; it seemed genuine enough.

'Why have you never told Mr. Malfoy? Surely he doesn't know?'

'I do not believe so. He was surprised when I sent your Hogwarts letter. Harry-'

'Mr. Potter will do, for now.' Dumbledore nodded in acquiesces.

'Do you remember anything from that night?' Harry reared back slightly at the unexpected question. He did not like to think about his early childhood, much less…

'The earliest thing I can remember is a green light.' This must have had some meaning for Dumbledore for he looked like something had been confirmed. 'How did I survive? What does it mean?' Harry almost asked "who am I?" but it seemed silly. He was Harry Potter, whatever that meant.

'I do not know what happened that night Harry, only that your survival confirms something terrible.'

'What?' Dumbledore looked at him in a very serious way. He had never looked so old.

'That the Dark Lord survives as well, and might well return soon.' Harry closed his eyes. No, this was not the truth he had been looking for. It felt incredibly unfair suddenly. Why could he not have stayed a Malfoy? The thought of someone so powerful returning. It did not matter if the Slytherin boys told tales of him as a great General, there were many, including Harry, who could see his viciousness through it all. In truth, Harry didn't think even Lucius Malfoy truly wanted the Dark Lord back.

'How?' he whispered.

'I have several theories, none that should be shared just yet. Harry, you are fifteen years old now, and although you have not had the easiest life, you have had some happiness, correct?' Harry opened his eyes to see Dumbledore looking almost hopeful.

'Well, yes of course. The Malfoys … while we did not part well, gave me everything I could have wished for. Draco-' Harry could not continue and closed his eyes again.

'Then I think it is time you knew the truth, as much as I can tell you now.'

'Please,' Harry begged. Perhaps the truth, no matter how horrible, would at least help with the dizziness.


	23. Letter From Home

Wow, things are getting hectic. I had a really shitty day today and I'm glad to have something nice to do! I can't thank you enough for all the nice feedback. :)

**Beta**: **hidden_lily** Thanks so much for your hard work :)

_Chapter 22: Letter from Home_

Harry lay on his bed in the Slytherin dormitory, staring up at the canopy, wondering what in Merlin's name he had done to deserve it all. "It" referred to the information Dumbledore had just imparted to him. It referred to a prophecy.

A prophecy about Harry Potter. Kill or be killed, that was the gist of it, really. Harry couldn't form thoughts on the subject. He just stared into space.

Perhaps a part of him felt that something like this had always been coming, but it was a delusional part of him, trying to justify the feeling of apathy pressing him down. He did not dare to actually feel anything about it. For if he did that, then the only thing he would feel would be crushing despair. Dumbledore had looked suitably serious while informing him of his destiny, and Harry had vehemently denied it for ten minutes. Then all had fallen silent, and Harry's life story seem to come to a close.

From muggle orphan, to muggle servant, to muggleborn wizard playing at being pureblood, to at last his true identity: The One with the power to defeat the Dark Lord.

If he ever decided to write his memoirs, he would remember to write about the apathy he felt. Everyone should know what having a destiny really felt like. Nothing like the novels, not at all. He felt no desire to grab a sword and a wand and ride a dragon into battle to fulfill the poetic prophecy. All he felt was sleepy.

Somewhere far off - far above him to be exact - the sound of a thousand stomping feet reached his ears. Hundreds of students, all eagerly rushing into the Great Hall for a marvelous feast. None of them knew this feeling. It wasn't apathy any longer. The thunder of feet had changed it to utter loneliness.

Harry knew he had to go upstairs for the feast. Dumbledore had told him to pretend nothing was different. Lucius Malfoy would not expose his deception except as a last resort. The longer Harry's true identity was kept hidden, the longer he could remain safe. Dumbledore knew the Dark Lord could return at any moment; he just didn't know how strong he would be or in what form. The only thing he did know, and made sure Harry knew now, was that the Dark Lord most certainly wanted him dead.

So Harry was still Harry Malfoy, for now. Part of him wanted to shout his true name from the highest tower, but another hoped he could pretend forever.

He dragged himself out of bed and made his way to the Great Hall. The flow of students didn't even notice when he slipped into their midst. He consciously tried to avoid looking around him in case he spotted someone he knew, especially a certain blond.

He sat down at the first empty seat, a few places from the end of the Slytherin table, and kept his head down.

He had hoped that perhaps Draco would ignore him. He certainly wouldn't cause a scene; no self-respecting Slytherin would. Harry heard the sharp gasp, somehow cutting through the low rumble of conversations echoing throughout the Hall. Harry tensed as he felt a body sit down next to him, too close for a casual friend.

'How can you be here?' Draco hissed in his ear. His voice was full of surprise, desperation and … was that hope? Harry could not bring himself to glance at the young man's face.

'I am a student of Hogwarts,' Harry murmured. 'I have every right to be here.' He felt more than saw Draco draw back sharply, before leaning close again.

'You think I would stop you? How can you think that? You were the one who ran away and left me!' Draco got up abruptly and left. Harry didn't bother to see where he went, but he likely seated himself with Blaise or Nott. Draco's reaction was puzzling. Could it be he hadn't been convinced by his father to forget Harry? If that was the case then Harry had just behaved very badly.

Dumbledore had informed him that Lucius had paid both boys' school fees for all seven years in one big transaction. As long as Lucius valued his reputation as a pureblood he would not contest Harry's presence at Hogwarts.

The feast passed around Harry without his notice. He got up when he felt the others do so. He nodded his head whenever someone greeted him, managing a soft hello to Hermione before he disappeared into the dungeons. Trudging along the corridor, Harry got quite the shock when a hand grabbed his robe and pulled him forcefully into an abandoned classroom. His head banged against the wall as Draco shoved him into it.

'Ow!' he growled, blinking his eyes at his assailant. The summer had passed without much growth in height for Draco, and Harry was now visibly taller than the blond. Harry was also a little more bulky with his love of Defence practice instead of Seeker play. Draco's eyes could scare a hippogriff into submission, Harry was sure.

'Did that hurt?' he asked sarcastically. 'Good.' His hands were fisted in Harry's robe, and his hair was wild. For some reason heat started coiling in Harry's lower regions. Merlin's staff, how he had missed him! Guilt over his thoughtless comments earlier washed over him.

'Draco,' he said softly, and he could see in the grey eyes how Draco was struggling for control over numerous emotions. 'I'm sorry. Sorry I ran away, sorry I never contacted you. I'm sure you understand why I could not. What I'm most sorry for is making you worry.'

'You didn't,' Draco spat, stepping back abruptly. 'I was simply surprised to see you.' He turned half away, folding his arms across his chest.

'I missed you,' Harry admitted. Draco shot a glance at him, but went back to studying the wall. 'I had to leave, you have to see that. I went home.'

'You left home!'

'I left you,' Harry countered, trying to keep his voice from rising, and failing. 'And I'm sorry for that, but nothing else there was ever home! If it was then how could your father run me out of the house so easily?' Even as he said it, Harry knew he had to realise that Lucius never truly cared about him. It broke his heart to think it, but the facts were there.

'He was overreacting,' Draco insisted. 'He thought you were attacking me.' Harry had a hard time believing that, but said nothing. 'And you just ran off to Merlin knows were without a word all summer!'

'I said I was sorry,' Harry reminded him. He spread his hands, palms outwards, in a sign of defeat. 'I don't know what else you want of me.' Draco stared at him hard for several seconds, face hard and unmoving. Then, before Harry had time to blink, Draco stepped forward, grabbed Harry's robe again and pulled him down into a kiss. Harry gasped in shocked awe and quickly enveloped Draco in his arms. They kissed as if it would be their last, which it well could be for all Harry knew. He committed the taste of Draco to memory, as well as the softness of his cheek and the smell of his hair. Finally, Draco separated their lips just enough to speak.

'That is what I wanted,' he whispered softly.

'Oh,' Harry replied stupidly. Draco's head fell with a soft thud against Harry's shoulder. He seemed to be breathing in quite deeply.

'When I saw you I pictured our reunion like a silly muggle novel,' he confessed. 'But then you were so short with me, so I thought I should be very mad at you. But I just can't. Father was wrong to chase you out. I even told him so right to his face.'

'You did?' Harry asked, his arms tightening at the thought of the man's reaction.

'Yes, but he didn't punish me. In truth he hasn't been home a lot since you were gone. I assumed he was out looking for you, but he wouldn't tell me anything. He's been looking almost ill.' Harry took in this information with as much skepticism as he could muster. Lucius Malfoy was probably only looking for him to punish him. 'He's seemed almost nervous lately, and I was out of my mind with worry for you,' Draco confessed, burying into Harry's neck. 'You promised you would never leave, but I thought I would never see you again.'

'I might need to leave on occasion,' Harry amended his old promise. 'But I'll always come back for you.' Draco seemed to accept this as he started kissing the neck in front of him. Harry groaned deeply. Could they really just go back to how things were before?

'Where did you go? You said you went home? I hope you don't mean the Workhouse,' Draco said between kisses. Harry's pleasure went cold instantly. He knew he had to lie.

'Yes, just to look at the records, but they told me nothing,' he said, which was true.

'Oh, I'm sorry. Then were did you go?'

'Here and there. I roamed the country, to be honest, then to Hogsmeade.'

'You must tell me all about it … later.' Harry quickly kissed Draco when the man tilted his head up again. Harry tried to forget the lies he would be forced to tell and kissed Draco hard. He loved the sounds the blond was making.

They decided to sneak back to the dorms, waiting for everyone to go to sleep before spelling Draco's curtains shut and hiding in Harry's. A few silencing charms and they were cocooned away from the world.

XXX

'My Lord, I have … news.' Good or bad, Lucius was not sure. He wasn't sure of anything these days. The summer was a blur of constant rage, fear and worrying. And now this.

'What?' the voice had grown weak. Crouch Jr. had long ago shed his Moody disguise, but he was still weakening. He had been the Dark Lord's vessel for almost a year. He was stronger than Quirrell had been, but he would not last forever.

'The boy … he is at Hogwarts.'

'WHAT?' Lucius did not flinch back at his Lord's wrath. He kept his head down, ignoring the pain in his knee. He was too old for kneeling. Crouch lifted his wand and cast the curse. Lucius fell screaming; the indignity gone in the pain.

'How can the boy be at Hogwarts?' the Dark Lord demanded. 'You said he ran away into the muggle world.' Lucius panted, staring at the ceiling. He swallowed several times before he found his voice.

'He is smart. I have no doubt he could find his way in the muggle world and then return to ours. I raised him myself.' Lucius convulsed as he was cursed again for his impertinence. Crouch was breathing heavily from the effort.

'I will have no new vessel but the boy!' the Dark Lord hissed. 'You will bring him to me.'

'But how? In Hogwarts he is protected. Dumbledore-'

'You will bring him to me or I will have your own son instead.' Lucius' heart went dead for a moment. 'Is that clear?'

'Yes, My Lord. I will find a way.' Crouch waved his hand in the now familiar gesture of dismissal. His eyes had an empty look to them, as if he had lost all will of his own. Lucius pulled himself upright and scuffled towards the door, plotting dark deeds.

XXX

'Why can't you go to Hogsmeade?' Draco asked when Harry declined for the second weekend in a row. He had made his excuses before, but their traditional excursions were a favourite pastime before and it was hard to explain his sudden reluctance. He couldn't tell Draco that Dumbledore had declared it unsafe for him. The Dark Lord's minions, or Lucius Malfoy himself, could be lurking about.

'I'm just not in the mood,' Harry shrugged. 'You go without me.' He regretted the hurt in Draco's eyes, so he cast a quick glance around them before pulling Draco to him. He felt the thrill of kissing in a corridor where anyone could see them. Draco hummed in contentment.

'I'll bring back something sweet,' he whispered as they parted.

'Just yourself will do,' Harry teased back, mimicking the flirting from those horrid romance novels he knew Draco read in secret. Draco snorted, but his blush spoke differently. Harry headed to the library, hoping Hermione was there, but no luck. She was probably sitting in Madam Puddifoot's with Weasley.

He spent the day alone, reading and studying advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts. He was getting pretty good, but his main goal this year was to study Apparition. He was going to try to convince Dumbledore he needed to learn if he was to survive the next summer.

'And how was your day?' Harry jumped at the sound of Draco's voice. The blond was standing right by his bed. Harry quickly shut the book, trying to push it under his pillow.

'Oh, fine, just homework.' Draco frowned at the book.

'What's that?' He reached out.

'Nothing,' Harry said, pushing it further under. Draco ignored him and grabbed for it. Harry sighed in defeat as Draco took in the cover.

'This is next year's book,' Draco said.

'I already finished this year's,' Harry admitted. He had read it almost cover-to-cover at every free moment. Draco was quiet for a long moment, staring at the cover, before slowly looking at Harry.

'You felt the need to hide this?' Harry sighed and shrugged. He hated all the lying, but he couldn't find the words to explain the truth. In truth he hadn't felt the need to hide his interests, really, it had just become habit. In class he was still the quiet twin, letting Draco get the glory he wanted and deserved. 'Harry, tell me.'

'I like Defence. I want to be an Auror.' Harry looked down. 'And I'm good at it.' Draco sat down beside him, using a finger under Harry's chin to bring the young man's eyes to his.

'I can't believe you think that it's some sort of crime to be good at something. Is this my doing?' Harry grabbed Draco's hand, squeezing.

'No.' At Draco's look Harry relented. 'I suppose when during our first year it seemed so important to you to be the best, and I didn't want to draw attention to myself. I wasn't exactly good at pretending to be a Malfoy.' Draco seemed to chew over the statement.

'Well, don't do that anymore. If you want to be an Auror, then that's what you should work towards, and that means showing off your skills in class.' Harry tried not to let his emotions show as he thought of the possibility of him living out his life as a normal wizard. He doubted very much Lucius Malfoy would let him go about his day, not to mention the Dark Lord.

'Let's go to bed,' Harry said, putting away his book properly.

'All right, but tomorrow we're duelling, and you are not to hold back.' Harry couldn't help but smile at Draco's attitude. The boy practically skipped off to the bathroom. At least there was one less lie between him, but the most important still remained. Harry ached to tell Draco. _I know who I am! _But he stayed silent.

XXX

The next Monday Harry was content. His breakfast was good, Draco was babbling away about something or other. He had taken Harry's besting of him rather well, and was now determined to catch up. Harry didn't have Quidditch practice, however, so he was confident Draco had no real shot at doing so.

A large Eagle Owl landed across from him suddenly. Draco made to grab the letter, but the owl reared back, presenting its leg to Harry. The two Slytherins exchanged glances, full of surprise and barely concealed worry. Harry forced himself to take the letter gently.

_Read in private._

Harry glanced at Draco again, who looked very worried now. Harry got up without a word and left. Once a suitable distance into the dungeons he found an out of the way alcove and ripped open the letter.

_Harry _

_I know who you are. _

Harry felt a distinct stab in his heart at the first sentence in Lucius' unmistakable hand.

_Your true identity. Do you? If not I will be glad to tell you all about your parents. I have wondered, however, if the Headmaster may have known all along and perhaps has even informed you some time ago. Perhaps you have even known for years. You are Slytherin enough to conceal it. If this is the truth, then I admire you for it. _

_I freely admit that I overreacted last summer. Draco tried several times to explain how I misinterpreted the situation. I hope you understand how, as a father, I let my emotions get away from me. _

_I care about you as well, you must not forget. I hope you are returning home for Christmas. I hope we can be a family again. _

_Sincerely, your most devoted foster father, _

_Lucius _

Harry blinked back the tears, holding his breath to keep from sobbing. In one violent move he ripped the letter into shreds, throwing them to the floor. He then used his wand to burn the remains. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and trying to regain his equilibrium. He felt utterly betrayed. Worse so than when Lucius ran him out of the house.

For it was all one big lie. The whole damn letter. Harry could have accepted threats or even bribery, but this sugary-sweet Lucius was not real. He couldn't be. A part of Harry wished it was of course, but he knew if he allowed himself to believe it, Lucius would merely destroy his faith again. Lucius Malfoy had never been his foster parent.


	24. Fathers

**Note**: Thanks for all the wonderful feedback. Sorry that there wasn't a chapter last week, but I was visiting a friend up north for her birthday. We had a blast, but she barely knows what fanfiction is so I felt it was rude to be secretly writing fanfiction when she wasn't looking. Enjoy!

And we must never forget a big thanks to Hidden Lily for all her hard work! :)

_Chapter 23: Fathers_

'Harry! Wait!' Harry closed his eyes for a moment before Draco caught up with him. He had tried to compose himself before going back upstairs to attend classes, but he could still hear Lucius' voice in his head. 'What was the letter about?' Draco asked, breathless as he rounded on Harry. 'Well?'

'He asked for my forgiveness and that I come home for Christmas.' He wanted to tell Draco that he didn't believe a word of it, but bit his tongue. Draco's face lit up.

'That's wonderful! You do forgive him, right? You want to come home?'

'Of course,' Harry bit out. Draco must have been blinded by the knowledge that their family was repaired, for he failed to notice Harry's discomfort.

'Then we'll have a traditional Malfoy Christmas after all!' He stuck his arms underneath Harry's, and held on like a lady being escorted. Harry rarely saw him display such joviality in public. The blond grinned and pulled Harry down the hallway. Harry couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, though both of them let go by the time they reached the classroom.

XXX

'Harry, please,' Draco pouted.

'I have homework.'

'We all have homework,' Draco argued, 'But we somehow have still found the time to go to Hogsmeade for the last two years.' He tugged on Harry's arm. 'Please. '

Harry bit his lip. He was aching to get out of the castle. He had missed several Hogsmeade weekends. He was used to going out. One trip could hardly hurt? He would lay low in the crowds.

'All right.' Draco smiled brightly and a little smugly. Harry sighed and hoped he wasn't doing something stupid.

They made their usual rounds, getting a few new books for Draco and chocolates of course. They had their lunch. Harry felt pretty relaxed by then, as nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

'Let's take the long way back, maybe go by the Shrieking Shack,' Draco suggested as they exited The Three Broomsticks.

'I really think we should get back,' Harry said, looking around. The crowds were thinning, meaning a lot of students had already gone back and they were more exposed... There probably wouldn't be anybody at the Shrieking Shack.

'Come now,' Draco said, tugging at Harry's sleeve while giving him a sly glance. 'I might even let you sneak a snog.' He walked off, expecting Harry to follow. With incentive like that, Harry shrugged. He doubted there were Death Eaters lurking around just waiting for him to go out on a Hogsmeade weekend, right?

The Shrieking Shack was indeed deserted. Draco leaned against the fence, smirking as Harry walked up the path after him. Harry raised his eyebrow.

'Are you quite sure you wish to indulge while out in the open?'

'Come over here and find out.' Harry smiled and was about to do as suggested when he heard the faint crack of apparition. It was in the forest somewhere, but Harry couldn't be certain how far off. His senses were immediately on high alert. He continued towards Draco, pretending nothing was wrong. He leaned in and gave Draco the kiss he had been waiting for, grabbing the young man's waist and turning him so he could see the forest. Nothing was moving. He quickly turned around and pressed Draco back into the fence, using himself as a shield. Perhaps it had simply been an animal.

Then suddenly he was absolutely sure someone was coming. He could feel it, his instincts were screaming.

'Harry, watch out!' Harry, in his adrenaline-saturated-state, could not identify the voice, but he reacted to it all the same. He twisted around, his wand out by the time he was facing the forest. He saw the Death Eater at once in the shadows, wand raised and a hex on the tip of his tongue.

'_Stupify_!' Harry cried. The spell left his wand just as the Death Eater shouted a spell of his own. Harry pushed Draco roughly to one side while he dove to the other. The Death Eater had dodged the stunning spell and was advancing to get a better aim.

'_Expelliarmus_!' Harry cried. The Death Eater put up a shield just in time, clearly unsettled that a fifth year had reacted so quickly and efficiently. Harry got to his feet and deflected the Death Eater's next spell. The masked figure was advancing quickly, hoping the closer proximity would be in his favour. Just as Harry was about to cast, another spell appeared to come out of nowhere and hit the Death Eater in the side of the head. He gasped and fell to ground, twisting his body to see where it had come from. Harry followed the man's gaze and saw Remus hurrying towards him. The Death Eater considered himself outmatched and Apparated away.

'Remus!' Harry cried.

'Harry, are you all right?' he asked.

'Yes, yes, I'm fine.' Draco! Harry turned to find the blond head covered in mud. He ran forward and fell to his knees, pulling Draco's head into his lap. Underneath the blond head was a rock sticking out of the mud - that Harry had pushed him into! 'Draco!'

Draco groaned, making Harry's lungs fill with air from relief. He was alive! Remus kneeled by them, casting a quick spell Harry didn't recognise.

'He might have a concussion,' Remus said. 'You better get him to the Hospital Wing.' Harry nodded and lifted Draco into his arms. The young man was a little heavy, so Remus cast a lightening charm.

'Thank you. You saved my life,' Harry said, even as he hurried down the lane.

'It looked like you were handling things fairly well, I was impressed,' Remus said as he kept pace.

'What are you doing here?' Harry asked.

'I came to see you of course. I've been here a week actually. I found a nice dry cave up in the mountains. I was going to send you a letter….' Remus trailed off.

'I am sorry for the way we parted,' Harry said sincerely. 'I hope you'll stay, though I doubt I'll be going outside the castle grounds again. This is all my fault.'

'You couldn't have foreseen this. I have heard rumours the Death Eaters are massing again. The fact that they targeted you suggests they know your true identity.'

Harry nodded reluctantly. 'The Headmaster warned me not to go to Hogsmeade,' he admitted. They were getting closer. 'Come with me to the Hospital Wing?'

'I shouldn't-' Remus said. He placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. 'I will owl you.' And without further explanation he was gone. Harry didn't have time to pause, however, and hurried through the gates. Draco groaned again and raised his head, blinking up at Harry.

'What? What on earth?'

'You knocked your head,' Harry explained. 'Be still, I'm taking you to the Hospital Wing.' Draco must have been hurting badly, for he laid his head on Harry's shoulder and didn't badger him for an explanation.

XXX

'I am very disappointed in you, Harry,' Dumbledore said. The young man looked down at his lap, feeling the guilt gnaw at him terribly. Not because of Dumbledore's disappointment, but because Draco was lying in a bed in the Hospital Wing. How could he have endangered Draco like that? It was inexcusable.

'I'm sorry. I should never have gone to Hogsmeade.'

'I know you have more than learned your lesson, the hard way, unfortunately.'

'Yes, sir.'

'What did Madam Pomfrey say?'

'He'll wake up soon after the spell has healed his concussion,' Harry informed him. 'What should I tell him?'

'What do you wish to tell him?' Harry thought long and hard. Draco deserved to know the truth about why he had gotten hurt, but the thought of explaining things to Draco made Harry's heart freeze in his chest. Then again, to have the truth out would be liberating. No more lies. But would the truth cause a rift between them? Harry couldn't decide.

'Maybe he won't remember anything,' Harry said, half-heartedly. Dumbledore merely raised an eyebrow. 'Do you think I should tell him?'

'Honestly, I cannot say. I do not know Draco enough to judge his reaction. He deserves to know your true identity, but can you trust him?'

'I trust him with my life,' Harry said immediately. His statement was met with the same eyebrow.

'Then I leave the decision to you. If you think Draco can keep silent, then him knowing would help keep him out of danger, but be careful not to tell him about his father's plans for you. He might not take such accusations well.' Harry nodded. Draco might not agree with his father in all things anymore, but he would not take Harry accusing him of trying to kill him, or deliver him to the one trying to kill him, as the case was.

'You behaved recklessly today,' Dumbledore said. 'I therefore hope you will not take this as a form of reward, for it is not, but I have something for you nonetheless. Perhaps if you cannot be contained, at least this may help keep you out of danger in an emergency. This is for emergencies only, Harry, and I expect you to use it wisely.' Harry's puzzled expression turned to one of awe as Dumbledore produced a cloak in a beautiful shimmering fabric. Harry rose from the chair as Dumbledore spread it out over his desk.

'What is it?' Harry asked, touching it with reverence.

'An invisibility cloak. It was your father's; he gave it to me for safe-keeping. Had I known you were alive I would have given you it sooner. Now that you know your true father, I had thought to make it a Christmas present, but in times like these…' Dumbledore let the statement hang, and Harry took the cloak with trembling hands. His father had owned such a thing? Finally, Harry had something of his parents in his very hands.

'Thank you.'

'As I said, Harry, it is for emergencies.'

'Of course, of course.'

'Go see to Mr. Malfoy.' Harry folded the cloak and pocketed it before bidding Dumbledore farewell. He all but ran back to the Hospital Wing, just in time to see Draco wake up as Madam Pomfrey tended to him.

'I've healed your concussion, but you should rest here for the night regardless.'

'What happened?' Draco asked, looking around and spotting Harry.

'I'm sure your brother can explain,' Pomfrey said. She hadn't asked Harry any questions, and he suspected she knew or that Dumbledore had told her something at least. She bustled away, giving Harry a look he couldn't decipher. Draco stared at him with plain confusion.

'Harry?'

'How are you feeling?' Harry asked, sitting on the bed by Draco's knees.

'I'm fine, but what happened? Who was that man who attacked us? He wore a mask like-' Draco visibly shivered. 'And who was that other man who warned you? Shouted your name as if he knew you.'

'What was Remus,' Harry explained. 'Remus Lupin.'

'Who?'

'I met him during summer…' Harry took a deep breath. Draco was waiting patiently for an explanation. 'He was a friend … of my parents.' Draco's eyes went wide and he sat up straighter.

'Your parents? But- but how- when-' Harry had never seen Draco so flabbergasted. 'How could you not have told me you found out who your parents were!' Harry cringed as Draco's shrill tone echoed around the Hospital Wing. Luckily, there were no other students sick or injured.

'I didn't know how to tell you … because of who they were.'

'Well, who were they?' Draco asked impatiently. 'What could be the matter with them if you couldn't tell me? I promise nothing you say will change the way I- think about you.' Harry frowned at the way Draco almost stumbled over the last few words, but he mentally shrugged the almost-stutter away.

'I'm not sure you can make such a promise,' Harry warned, but nodded decisively; he would tell Draco the truth. 'My parents were James and Lily Potter.'

'Don't you mean Patton?' Harry shook his head.

'No, that was a misspelling. They were magical….' Draco's face went from confused to wide-eyed shock. He shook his head in silent denial. Harry responded by nodding solemnly.

'Not- _the _Potters?' Draco whispered in disbelief.

'Yes.'

'But, then you must be…?'

'They're only son and sole survivor of the night the Dark Lord disappeared.' Draco shook his head again, perhaps to clear it. He looked around the room as if someone would pop out at any moment and let him in on the joke.

'How is that possible?'

'It's complicated. Dumbledore only has theories, but he believes the scar on my forehead is actually a curse scar.' Draco's eyes immediately went to the lightning-bolt shaped scar. 'He believes the Dark Lord will return … maybe soon.'

'Merlin's beard,' Draco whispered. 'Dumbledore knows? Who else knows about this!' Harry looked down at his lap, finding himself unable to lie to Draco's face, yet equally unable to tell him the truth. Luckily for him, Draco was a very clever young man. 'No, no … dear Merlin, my father knows doesn't he? He's known all along. That's why he-'

'No,' Harry cut in, looking up. 'He didn't know when he first took me in, at least Dumbledore doesn't think so, but he does now and…' Harry cut himself off. Draco looked completely inscrutable.

'What are you saying?' he asked quietly. Harry bit his lip. The truth will out, he reasoned, and plowed ahead.

'The Dark Lord is returning and I think your father is working for him … again. They want me. The letter-'

'No,' Draco said with an air of finality. Harry shifted on the bed.

'Draco-'

'No, my father would not do that. Your family.' Harry looked away. 'He was never convicted,' Draco insisted, his voice rising. 'He may have agreed with some of the politics, but he's not a Death Eater.' In that one word his voice went from shouting to a whisper. 'The stories about them- no, he's not.'

'He's never told us anything about that time,' Harry mentioned.

'Of course he hasn't! It was a war. You don't tell your children about such things. He was protecting us.'

'From what?' Suddenly Draco leapt out of bed. Alarmed, Harry rose as well. They stared at each other, the bed between them.

'How can you say such things? About the man who raised you?' Draco's eyes were dangerously glassy.

'You can read his letter if you like,' Harry said, resigned that Draco would not believe him. It had been a huge mistake. He let his head fall and stared at his feet. 'I know you'll keep this secret because no matter what Lucius is planning, good or bad, we'll still be there for each other. Remember that.'

Harry went back to the dormitory. He took out his new cloak again and spread it out over Draco's bed. He had wanted to show off his father's cloak. Now, lying on Draco's bed, it seemed a symbol of what divided them. He turned away from it towards his own bed, almost jumping away in fright when he saw an owl standing on his bed. It was an Eagle Owl. There were magical windows to let owls into the common room for emergency messages, but Harry had never gotten a message quite so urgent. He hesitantly approached the bird. Just as he reached out it took off, flying right out the door and presumably back home. Harry tore open the letter with shaking hands. Once again his eyes scaned over Lucius' elegant script.

_Harry _

_You have gotten quite good at Defensive spells from what I hear. You now know that Death Eaters are waiting for you, always. You will not be able to leave Hogwarts without risking capture. The Dark Lord does not give up easily, I'm sure you can imagine. _

_I have decided, however, to tell you what you do not know. What even Dumbledore does not know. _

_The Dark Lord wants you, but not simply to kill you. He needs your body to survive, to become powerful again. The reasons for why it must be you are complicated. Suffice it to say that if he does not get you soon, he will need another body to leech off of until you come. _

_The bodies he inhabits now die slowly, and I believe quite painfully. Until now they have been volunteers, loyal Death Eaters. He has decided, however, that the next one will be different. _

_I was tasked with capturing you and I must therefore pay the price. If he cannot have you by Halloween, he will make me give him my only son. He hopes Draco's young and energetic body will last longer, but I suspect just the opposite will prove to be the case. _

_Draco will die if you do not come home. _

_I know you will make the right choice. Come now. _

It was unsigned. Harry's heart wasn't pumping. He was dead already. How could this be happening? Harry closed his eyes for a few moments. When he opened them they were hard as steel.

There was no choice. He marched straight out of the dorm, his mind completely focused on getting to his destination as quickly is possible. He did not notice if he passed anyone in the halls. He did not see if there was anyone there to see him blasting open the Quidditch shed and taking his broom. If anyone saw his form growing smaller as he flew off, he did not care.

Someone did see him. From the window of the Hospital Wing, Draco could swear it was Harry flying away, but surely, he wouldn't just leave…? Despite being mightily pissed off at Harry, Draco was still reeling from all the revelations to really feel anything.

The doubt built to unmanageable levels and he hurried out, careless if he made Madam Pomfrey worry. He nearly ran to the dormitory, ignoring the calls from housemates asking what was going on. Once there, the first thing he noticed was a strange fabric on his bed. It shimmered in the candlelight, beckoning him.

It was soft to the touch. He lifted it and realised it was a cloak. He swung it around his shoulders. Had Harry given him this? Or had he left it by mistake. He stepped up to the mirror by his bed and gasped. He was invisible! And not just the regular novelty-invisibility cloak kind. He was completely undetectable. Where on earth had Harry-. He spun around when he spotted something in the mirror. A piece of parchment on Harry's bed. Hoping it was a clue, Draco snatched it up.

'No,' he whispered as he read, tears building to overflowing. 'No, please.' He crushed the letter, pressing it to his chest. 'Harry.'

Without thought, without Slytherin planning, Draco pulled the cloak tightly around him and hurried after.


	25. Alone

Note: Hello all. I know it's been far too long. I won't go into the details. I give you a long chapter with lots of action to make up for it.

**Beta**: **hidden_lily** Thanks so much for your hard work :)

Chapter 24: Alone

Harry ignored the cold wind fighting against him as he flew towards home. He tried not to think about what awaited him there. There was no other choice for him.

The sun had already gone down when he had taken off, but the sky was clear and the light below felt like a sparkling trail southward. He kept his wand at the ready, using the compass spell regularly.

Had he been in a state to think straight, he would have considered how far it was, but he was not, and so he kept flying.

When he finally reached Malfoy Manor, he felt the wards caressing him as he passed through, as though they were welcoming him home. This would never be home again, Harry thought briefly before he flew straight for the balcony connected to his and Draco's room.

He dropped his broom and pulled the door, expecting it to be locked, but it wasn't and so he nearly stumbled backwards. Regaining his equilibrium quickly, he strode inside, wand drawn.

The room lay silent and empty. His bed was where it had always been, perfectly made and waiting for him. He tried not to look at it. Before he could take another step, the door opened. Harry raised his wand as Lucius stepped in. The man had his hands up in a show of peace, but Harry wasn't fooled.

'Welcome home, Harry,' he said softly.

'This is no longer my home,' Harry spat. Lucius tilted his head as if making a concession, but again Harry refused to believe anything the man said or did. 'I came here for Draco.'

'Yes, I am well aware.' Lucius' voice was unreadable. Harry kept his wand raised stiffly. 'You are prepared then?'

'Prepared for what, exactly?' Harry hoped that his whole body didn't shake with the pounding of his heart. Voldemort wanted his body … what, exactly, did that mean for him? Death, most likely.

'The Dark Lord needs your body to regain his full strength. He's working powerful magic of the darkest kind. Necromancy, but with a … twist, if you will; his spirit is half-dead, and your body is very much alive.'

'And what happens to me? To my spirit?'

'It will be destroyed,' Lucius said with such calm that Harry felt shivers run over his entire body. 'Understand, I was given the task to get you back. The Dark Lord believes that I should still have some sway with you, considering I raised you.'

'So? I'm here.'

'What I mean is,' Lucius took a step forward, but Harry brandished his wand and he took the hint and stepped back. 'That the magic will work better if you were to give yourself willingly.'

'I came here of my own free will,' Harry pointed out.

'Yes, and that's very good, but when the time comes … you might not be so willing. You need to stay focused, compliant. The smoother this all goes, the better for Draco, for your family.'

'Draco is my only family,' Harry hissed. 'And I sacrifice myself for him only.' Lucius nodded somberly and reached out a hand, palm up.

'Then give me your wand.' Harry swallowed heavily, staring at the hand. He had to do this, for Draco. He walked forward and dropped the wand into Lucius' ready hand. It felt like a death sentence had been passed on him. Now all he was waiting for was the execution. 'Very good. Follow me.' Lucius turned on his heel and strode out. Harry could do nothing but follow.

Malfoy Manor seemed devoid of its usual light and life. Harry felt a depressing weight on his shoulders, but that may have been his own thoughts on his impending doom. Lucius led him directly to the ballroom. It was empty and the tall windows were covered in miles of black fabric. Candles were lit along the walls.

'Kneel,' Lucius commanded when they reached the centre. Harry ground his teeth, but obeyed. They waited in silence for a few moments. Then the double doors at the other end opened, magically and silently. Several figures were revealed, all cloaked and hooded except for the one in what appeared to be a wheelchair. Harry frowned. The person in the chair looked close to death. Magic alone was keeping him alive, but he still had enough power to propel himself forward. Harry was sure he had seen the man before, but he couldn't remember. As the group neared, Harry saw the man's eyes were empty, like he was in some sort of coma.

'What have you brought me, Luciusss?' a voice, coming from the man in the wheelchair.

'Exactly what you asked of me, My Lord,' Lucius said with a smug bow. 'Harry Potter, a willing sacrifice. I have convinced him of the inevitability of our victory and the nobleness of our cause.'

'You have?' Voldemort, for that was whose voice it was, sounded skeptical.

'Yes, My Lord.'

'We shall see.' Harry felt the creature's attention shift to him and suppressed a shiver. 'Harry Potter, here at last. Our last parting was such sweet sorrow.' Harry tried not to lean back as the wheelchair rolled forward. 'Are you ready to accept your destiny?' Harry took several deep breaths, hanging his head in defeat.

'Yes.' Everyone was silent for several moments, waiting for the Dark Lord to weigh the answer.

'Fetch Severus,' the voice ordered and two Death Eaters left their post. When they returned Harry couldn't help but look curiously at his Potions Professor. He was floating a very large cauldron in front of him. Very large, large enough for two people to bathe in comfortably. It made a gong sound when it was placed heavily on the floor in the middle of the room. The husk of a man that Voldemort inhabited lifted his hand, though his face remained expressionless, and pointed at the cauldron. 'Remove your clothes and submerge yourself. It will prepare your body for my coming.'

Harry stared apprehensively at the cauldron. As he rose he darted a glance at Lucius, but the man did not look at him. Harry tried not to feel self-conscious as he unbuttoned his robes. Just as he was about to remove it the doors burst open.

Two Death Eaters dragged Draco into the room. The young man was kicking and screaming bloody murder.

'Let go of me, you ruffians! How dare you lay a hand on me in my own home!' Lucius pulled his wand swiftly and faced them.

'Let go of my son this instant!' he bellowed. The Death Eaters stopped at the threat, unsure of what to do.

'What have we here?' the Dark Lord inquired.

'My Lord,' Lucius spun to face his master. 'My son no doubt followed Harry here. The curiousness of youth, you understand. Allow me to take him upstairs-'

'No. He shall stay and witness this, so he shall never be in doubt of my power. He will one day take your place, after all.' Lucius' jaw clenched visibly and he forced himself to put his wand away. 'Go on.' Voldemort ordered Harry, who hesitated only for a moment, before continuing.

'Harry, don't!' Draco cried.

'Silence,' Lucius hissed. Harry ignored the stares and climbed into the cauldron. The potion was warm and felt thicker than water. It was red, but its colour much more vibrant than blood. It still appeared grotesque to Harry.

'Submerge yourself,' Voldemort ordered, 'and swallow as much as you can as well. Breathe it in.' Harry wasn't sure how he could possibly do it, but he went down on his knees, the potion reaching to his neck. He looked over at Draco one last time.

'Harry, no, please!' Draco's face was wet with tears. He was still struggling against his captors.

'I love you,' Harry whispered. Draco couldn't have heard him, but he read it on Harry's lips for he repeated it silently. Then Harry closed his eyes and submerged himself completely.

XXX

Lucius watched, unable to breathe as Harry's head disappeared from view. Severus stepped up immediately and checked the potion. After a few moments he nodded to the Dark Lord.

'Do it, Severus.' The Potions Master took out a knife and stabbed Barty Crouch Jr. in the stomach. The man did not appear to react, except to stop breathing. A moment later and a dark cloud slipped out of the dead man's mouth. It travelled across the floor and up into the cauldron. Once the spirit was in the potion, the red liquid started bubbling and turning darker and darker until it was black. Lucius glanced at Severus, whose equally black eyes held his for a moment before both went back to studying the potion. Draco was whimpering in the background, but Lucius did not have the time to comfort his son.

He knew the potion would force itself into Harry's mouth and down his lungs, but if Harry didn't struggle, it would be far less painful, though how painless drowning could be was a mystery to Lucius.

'No!' Draco suddenly cried, wrenching himself away from his captors, who in their surprise let their grip slacken. Lucius watched, shocked into inaction, as his son pulled his wand as he ran to the potion and screamed a curse at the cauldron. It cracked, the sound deafening, and the potion spilled onto the marble floor. Draco jumped back at first, along with everyone else, but when the lifeless form of Harry spilled forth as well, Draco fell to his knees.

Harry's skin was pale as death.

'No, Merlin, no,' Draco hiccuped as he pulled Harry's head into his lap. Finally, the shock seemed to pass and the Death Eaters sprang into action. Lucius ran forward and grabbed Draco, pulling him away, ignoring his screams. Severus took the Draco's place and cast several spells. He conjured a blanket to cover Harry's naked form.

'All of you, leave!' Severus ordered the other Death Eaters, who scurried away at his wrath. 'Everything happened according to plan. Now it's all up to him.'

'How could you!' Draco scream, struggling in his father's arms. 'How could you!'

'Be quiet,' Lucius hissed, staring intently at Harry's still form. 'I did this to save our family.'

'I have no family!' Draco cried. He turned his head to glare at his father. 'I hate you!'

'You may hate me if you wish,' Lucius said quietly. 'If Harry dies I shall hate myself.'

'What? You mean he's not dead?' Draco asked, his head snapping back to stare at Harry, who looked just as lifeless as before.

'Right now, he is somewhere in between,' Severus explained. 'The Dark Lord is trying to destroy Harry's soul so that he may own Harry's body completely.'

'Then it's hopeless!' Draco cried. 'How can he possibly stand against the Dark Lord?'

'Harry is a strong wizard, and-'

'I told you,' Lucius cut in, visibly angry for the first time. He let go of Draco to face Severus. 'I have never seen Harry exhibit any extraordinary power.'

'The Headmaster believes some of the Dark Lord's power was transferred,' Severus bit out tensely. Harry's body twitched and Severus went back on his knees immediately to check on the boy. Draco bit his lip, thinking of Harry's dueling prowess, but stayed silent.

'What's happening?' Lucius demanded.

'The battle is raging. The potion should help him, but in the end, the outcome rests with Harry.'

'The potion … helped him?' Draco asked, growing paler as Harry twitched more frequently.

'Yes,' Lucius said grimly. He gave Severus a hard stare. 'Though had it been up to me, the Dark Lord would have been dead already.'

'Unlikely, as he would have killed us all if you had it your way,' Severus snapped back.

'Stop arguing!' Draco yelled. He knelt by Harry's other side. 'Harry's dying and you are arguing like children.' He touched Harry's forehead. It was ice cold. 'Please, fight him, Harry,' he whispered.

Severus and Lucius exchanged guilty glances.

XXX

_Earlier that day… _

Lucius had faced dangerous situations before, but nothing quite as terrifying as sneaking around his own house at that moment. The basement appeared to be deserted, but appearances could easily be deceiving. He knew Severus was taking a break as the potion bubbled away for at least a couple of hours.

The potions lab - which had been a dungeon only days ago - was empty of life. The large cauldron stood in the middle of the room with a magical fire burning around its base. Lucius pulled the vial out of his pocket and approached.

'Stay very still.' Lucius froze at the sound of Severus' voice. He felt the man's wand poking the back of his head. 'Hold out your hand.' Dear Merlin, he was caught. It was all over. He was dead, along with his boys. He held out the vial and Severus snatched it. Lucius heard him sniff at the contents. 'You stupid fool. The Dark Lord would be able to detect this poison with a single whiff. He would kill _me_ on the spot.'

'I-' Lucius was stumped for an answer, becoming even more confused when Severus stepped around him and put the vial of poison on a high shelf among many others. He then proceeded to cast every privacy spell Lucius knew, and a few he didn't.

'Your pathetic attempt at assassination is unnecessary,' Severus explained. 'I have already altered the potion as much as I dare. Any more and the Dark Lord will become suspicious. It will give Harry a fighting chance.'

'You … you…' Lucius could only stare dumbly. Severus raised an expectant eyebrow. 'You wish to save Harry?' Severus' face went dark abruptly. He nodded sharply and looked away. Suddenly, Lucius understood. He had been thinking Severus cared so much about Harry Malfoy that he was willing to betray his master … but it wasn't Harry Malfoy.

'Lily?' Lucius didn't really need Severus' second sharp nod to know the truth.

'I have been loyal to Albus since her death.'

'And how will Harry have a fighting chance?'

'The alterations I have made will give him a fighting chance. The Dark Lord expects this potion to allow Harry's body to hang on the very edge of death, making it easier to dispose of Harry's soul. In reality it will only appear Harry's body is dying, while Harry will retain full function of his mental capabilities, they will even be strengthened, and he will be able to use his magic on the Dark Lord's presence.'

'You expect a boy to be able to fight off the Dark Lord inside his own mind!' Lucius exclaimed.

'I expect him to fight for his life,' Severus retorted. 'Which he has already proven he can do quite intelligently by the way he killed Sirius Black.'

'No, no,' Lucius shook his head. 'You can't expect a boy to do this.'

'If Harry manages to fight off the Dark Lord, he will not be coming back.'

'You mean the horcrux inside Harry will be gone as well?'

'When Voldemort enters Harry he will become one with his horcrux again. Once Harry expels Voldemort from his mind, horcrux included, his spirit will no longer have a physical tie to this world and it will move on as any other spirit, or become a harmless ghost. That is my hypothesis.'

'You would risk Harry's life for a hypothesis?'

'You know what will happen if we do not go through with this. Either Draco will be taken, or, if I alter the potion further, we will be discovered and be killed, slowly.' Lucius closed his eyes. The situation was impossible. Lucius held his head in his hands. He felt Severus' hand on his shoulder and looked up.

'Your sons will be safe, both of them.' Lucius swallowed, trying to keep his composure. For months he had been desperate for a way out, but was this the only way?

'I must tell Harry.'

'No, his reactions must be genuine.'

'But what if … what if he dies thinking I wished it?' Lucius whispered hoarsely. The thought of Harry dying without knowing. 'He could die thinking I don't love him.'

'But Draco loves him,' Severus argued. 'I see it in their faces every day. If he fails, he will die knowing he is saving the one he loves. Do not risk him more by your selfishness.'

'You're right,' Lucius sighed. 'He is no doubt on his way even as we speak.'

'Then we must prepare.' And with that, Severus went back to the potion.

XXX

_Back in the ballroom… _

'I hate you, you're disgusting!'

'No, no,' Harry struggled, but Draco had his arms pinned. Lucius hovered over him, face lined with shadows. 'This isn't real.'

_Oh, it's real. You know in your heart it is. Just give in, Harry. No one wants you. _

Harry pushed the images away. Voldemort was trying to weaken him, but Harry couldn't give in. It just wasn't in his nature.

_Get out of my head!_ he screamed mentally for the hundredth time.

Suddenly, he was somewhere completely new. It was a baby's bedroom. The walls were painted with flowers and cute animals, all of them playing together. The crib stood in the center, but it was empty. Harry stood next to it. He knew he wasn't actually there, but it still felt completely real.

'Where am I?' he said out loud, knowing instinctively that Voldemort would hear him.

_Don't you recognise it? You are home, Harry. _

'This isn't Malfoy Manor.' Harry looked around. Perhaps this had been Draco's baby room? But no, the ceiling was far too low, and the decor, while cute, was not expensive.

_Malfoy Manor was never your home, Harry. _Abruptly, he realised where he had to be.

'No, no, get me out of here,' he said. He could easily guess what Voldemort was planning. Harry closed his eyes. 'I don't want to be here.' He felt the scene disappear, or rather, that he was no longer standing anywhere.

_How is it that you are so powerful? _Voldemort wasn't asking Harry, he realised, he was thinking it. Harry felt strong, very much alive. He could almost feel magic flying along his synapses. Voldemort was in his mind, he realised, and he had the upper hand. He concentrated hard.

_The Malfoys never loved you, _Voldemort's voice was right in his head. It was impossible to ignore. In fact it felt as if Harry was thinking it himself. Perhaps he didn't have all the power. _You were their pet, their plaything. _

'No.' He was back in the baby room. The door opened and Harry's mouth fell open. Lily Potter walked in, carrying a little baby in her arms. She was cooing at it. Harry had never seen her before, but he knew her instantly. James Potter followed, and another-

'Black!' Harry pointed his wand, but the stunning spell had no effect. The three were gathering around the crib as if nothing was wrong. 'You traitor!' but Harry knew the man couldn't hear him. He just seemed so disgustingly happy and peaceful, standing there with the people he killed.

_What's this? You think your own godfather betrayed your parents. How amusing. Now what is this?_ The scene shifted and Harry was standing in the courtyard at Hogwarts. He saw himself, so young and innocent - or rather, soon not to be innocent. The dog followed. The scene replayed itself.

_Sirius Black never betrayed your parents. _

'You're lying.' Harry felt powerless as another scene appeared. This one from Voldemort's memory. A snivelling ratlike man was on his knees in front of a tall, dark-haired man.

'You are their secret keeper?'

'Yes,' the man sniffed.

'Then tell me!'

'No!' But it was Harry who had shouted. The man, _Pettigrew,_ Voldemort whispered in his mind, had told the secret. But that meant-

_I know you still love the Malfoys Harry, but they will die if you don't give in. _

'What?'

_Lucius said you were willing, but clearly you are not. I will have to kill him and his son for his betrayal. _

'No.' Harry closed his eyes and forced the scene away. If he gave in- but no, it wouldn't matter. _You're a liar!_ He imagined a scene, and there was only one that came to mind.

He stood by the crib, empty again, and watched as Voldemort materialised in front of him. He looked just as he had with Pettigrew.

'How?' Voldemort reached for his wand, but it wasn't there, for Harry hadn't imagined it there. Harry raised his own. 'Come now, Harry. Don't be foolish.'

'I have to protect them.'

'They don't care about you,' Voldemort insisted. Harry took a deep breath.

'_Avada KEDAVRA!' _As Harry said the spell, he felt all the magic in his mind surge against the foreign presence, and he felt himself shout physically at the last word. Everything went black.

Outside Harry's mind, the three wizards watched as Harry's body arched and his mouth opened. 'Aaah!' A black smoke burst out of his mouth. Without any physical ties left, Voldemort's spirit could do nothing but dissipate. Harry's body slumped, looking quite dead.

'Harry?' Draco leaned over. Severus performed a spell. The Malfoys stared at him, waiting for confirmation.

'He has succeeded,' Severus pronounced, sounding surprised.

'He's alive?' Draco asked.

'He is, but the potion is still working in him, keeping him on the edge of life. We should move him somewhere safe, but no apparition.' Lucius stepped up immediately and carefully lifted Harry into his arms. Draco hovered close, not knowing how to help.

'My bed is closest,' Lucius said and strode away to a hidden passage, one of many, and led the party directly to the master bedroom. He lay Harry down very carefully, covering him with the soft duvet and getting rid of the quickly conjured blanket. He brushed the boys hair out of the way. 'Is there anything you can do for him?'

'Not at the moment,' Severus said. 'Lucius, we must act. I must return to Dumbledore and report. You must gather all the Death Eater in the house. Tell them their Lord wishes to address them in his new body. I will return with Aurors.'

'Yes, good,' Lucius nodded. Draco had gone around the bed and sat by Harry's side. He looked up at the older wizards.

'What should I do?'

'Stay with Harry,' Severus advised. 'Ward the doors after us. When the danger has passed we will return. Harry will not be able to wake as long as the potion is in effect. It will last at least a few hours more.' Severus nodded once to Lucius and left.

'Stay hidden,' Lucius said.

'Father.' Lucius waited as Draco got up and ran back around the bed. The elder Malfoy was surprised when his son hugged him, but he was very glad to hug back. 'You didn't sacrifice him.'

'Draco … I tried my best to save Harry. I had planned on getting us all to France afterwards. You are my son, but I love you both, and I would give my life for either of you.' Draco gazed up at him with shining eyes.

'Even … after … me and Harry.' Lucius silenced him by stroking his hair.

'Let us save that discussion for another time,' Lucius suggested. Draco hugged him close once more before they parted.

Lucius glanced back before he closed the door and witnessed Draco sitting by Harry's side, holding his hand. Harry looked pale as death and Draco so worried it tore at Lucius' heart. He promised himself there that neither of his boys would look like that again.


	26. The Homecoming

Finished it much quicker this time. Hope you enjoy! It's winding down now so not long until it's finished.

Thanks to all those who are still reading and reviewing this fic! You're reviews make my day.

Beta: hidden_lily Thanks so much for your hard work :)

_Chapter 25: The Homecoming_

When Harry Potter began, gradually, to exist again, the first thought in his mind was whether or not it was Sunday. If it was Sunday, they would have to sit in that awful classroom and listen to the old sailor berate them. Harry would receive the worst of it. He already felt incredibly sore all over. When had his last beating taken place?

Other thoughts started flickering through his mind. Memories and feelings. Draco was there, alive and smiling.

'Harry, wake up, please.' His limbs felt dead. He couldn't possibly wake up, but Draco was calling him. He had to.

'Ngh,' he managed.

'Harry?'

'Has he awoken?' Lucius' voice sent a shock through Harry. He had to get away.

'No, not yet.'

'The Aurors have stormed the ballroom and most the Death Eaters were captured. I am going to speak with them and Headmaster Dumbledore. Severus will be up soon to check on you.'

'Yes, Father.' Footsteps retreated and Harry tried to focus enough to think. Death Eaters captured? Lucius speaking with Dumbledore? Harry struggled with his body. His head started to clear, through force of will alone it seemed, and he slowly blinked his eyes open. The first thing he saw was … unfamiliar. He was in a bed, but not his own.

'Harry!' Draco leaned over his, face full of worry. 'Are you all right? Are you in any pain?'

'No,' Harry managed. His throat was terribly dry. 'Where am I?'

'In father's room,' Draco answered. He was fumbling with something out of Harry's vision. 'Here, drink.' He slid a hand around the back of Harry's head and gently lifted him while pressing a glass to his lips. Harry drank a few sips.

'Why am I here? What happened?'

'You forced the Dark Lord from your mind,' Draco explained quietly. 'Do you remember?' Yes, Harry remembered it all vividly. His eyes slid shut at the onslaught of images. 'Severus altered the potion so you could have a fighting chance. He and father were both trying to save you, but they could only do so much without rousing suspicion.'

'No,' Harry gasped. 'Lucius, he sent, he asked me to-'

'I know,' Draco said, placing a warm hand on Harry's forehead. It was only then Harry realised how cold he was, but it seemed too much of a bother to shiver. 'I read the letter. That is how I knew to follow you. Such a silly thing to do, flying off into the night.'

'I couldn't let him have you,' Harry whispered.

'I know.' Draco's hand stroked through his hair. It felt heavenly. 'Father couldn't tell you they had changed the potion. The Dark Lord would have known instantly. It's almost funny, actually. Severus caught Father trying to poison the potion, and then it turns out Severus was the spy all along.' Harry's forehead wrinkled in confusion. Could all this be true? 'I'm sure they'll be up to check on us again soon. They've both been quite worried.' Harry could easily tell from Draco's voice that Snape and Lucius were not the only ones worried. He opened his eyes again and tried to turn his head.

Draco smiled at him, still petting his hair, and Harry watched the grey eyes start to water.

'Silly sod,' Draco whispered. 'That was ridiculously … Gryffindorish of you, sacrificing yourself. You could have died.'

'I thought I would,' Harry admitted. He regretted saying it instantly as Draco's eyes became even more glassy and the young man had to look away for a moment to compose himself. He sniffed once and then returned his gaze to Harry, filled with now calm strength.

'But you didn't. You saved yourself, and all of us.'

'But not … alone,' Harry said, coming to terms with what Draco had told him.

'You had some help,' Draco agreed. Harry took a deep breath, feeling a bit more alive every minute.

'He really-' Before Harry could complete his question, the door opened and the man in question stepped inside. The moment he realised Harry was awake, he rushed to Harry's bedside. Harry hadn't seen the man move like that since … well, best not to think about the last time he was running in Lucius' presence.

'Harry, how are you feeling?' Lucius' eyes were filled with concern. He even reached out and checked Harry's temperature. It was still too cold, but rising every moment. Draco had withdrawn his hand when his father had entered.

'Better,' Harry managed. 'Thank you.' Lucius seemed to understand what Harry was thanking him for. He surprised Harry again by leaning down and placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

'My own plan would have landed us all in the next life,' he explained sadly. 'The person you should thank is Severus. Even so, you did most of the work yourself. I don't know if it means anything to you, but I'm very proud of you.' Harry stared up at the only true figure of authority he had ever respected, and the closest thing to family he had.

'Thank you,' Harry repeated. It still felt too tired to truly express himself. 'The Dark Lord is truly gone?'

'Yes, you expelled him from your mind, and this earth,' Lucius proclaimed. 'Rest some more. I will inform the others you are recovering.' Lucius made to rise, but Harry raised his hand.

'Wait,' he said. 'Please, tell me the truth. Did Sirius Black betray my parents?' Lucius eyes widened in surprise at the sudden question. Harry was surprised himself. He had not known he would ask until the question was on his lips, though in truth the thought had been in the back of his mind since waking up.

'I, I'm not sure what to tell you Harry,' Lucius sighed. 'The evidence alone … but, no Death Eater ever spoke of him being among us, and the Dark Lord never mentioned having converted Black.' Harry closed his eyes again, shutting down. It had to be true.

'Harry?'

'Let him sleep, Draco.' The voices faded. So did Harry.

XXX

When Harry next awoke he was in his own bed, and much more comfortable for it. He checked the room and found it empty. Draco's bed had been slept in recently, however, and Harry thought he might hear the shower running. He turned and stuffed his face into the pillow, wondering if he would ever feel like getting up again.

Only a few moments passed before he felt the need to get up, unfortunately. He was apparently finished sleeping, and lying in bed only made him think. He got up, noting someone had put on his pajamas, and padded over to the balcony doors. The sun was shining outside, it was just morning. But which morning? He felt as though he had slept a hundred years.

Turning back to the room, he spotted the newspaper lying on the small table by the fireplace. Harry flopped down on the couch and grabbed it, forgetting his desire to find the date when he saw the headlines.

_New Death Eater convictions: Peter Pettigrew confesses to the betrayal of the Potters! _

_- Both boys will attend exams, says Lucius Malfoy. Harry (Potter) Malfoy still recovering. _

_Minister Fudge to announce Order of Merlin? _

Harry closed his eyes and rubbed them, throwing the paper away. It was too much information. Clearly, he had been out of it for some time.

Just then the door to the bathroom opened and Draco stepped out in his dressing gown, clearly newly bathed. A look of sheer panic crossed the pale face when he saw Harry's bed empty. His eyes flitted over the room until he spotted Harry on the couch.

'Harry! Thank Merlin.' Draco rushed forward, and Harry couldn't help but stand up and receive the hug full on. The grateful hug soon turned into desperate clutching as both young men fought to control their emotions. Draco buried his face in Harry's next, breathing deeply. Harry knew he would fall apart if he let go.

'How long have I been sleeping?' Harry asked.

'Three days,' Draco replied. 'Madam Pomfrey put you in a healing sleep. She was quite cross at Severus for his scheme.'

'I saw the paper- they, the Wizengamot?'

'Everyone is in an uproar,' Draco explained as they reluctantly pulled apart. They sat down on the couch, knees touching. Draco grabbed Harry's hands. 'The Ministry couldn't hold all the Death Eaters safely, so the Wizengamot is hearing the cases in record time so they can send them to Azkaban all the quicker.'

'It said … they printed my name,' Harry picked up the paper and stared at his name. _(Potter) _

'Yes,' Draco said, his tone unreadable. 'Your secret is out I'm afraid. Dumbledore's work. He felt the truth was needed. Father's been working the press, so don't worry, you've been painted quite the hero.' Harry's eyes widened.

'I don't want to be a hero,' he protested. Draco finally cracked a smile at that.

'Too late I'm afraid. It's better this way. The Slytherins won't dare challenge you. You might even get an Order of Merlin. Father's got Fudge in his pocket.' Harry jerked his hand away and rose, pacing across the room. He stopped, looked out of the empty grounds for a moment, trying to get his thoughts in order.

'Harry? What's the matter?'

'Your father is afraid people will paint him a pureblood hypocrite and a liar,' he spat. He couldn't look at Draco, but he imagined the boy's hurt look.

'He did everything to save you! He would have died for you!'

'And now he's using me to cover up his own mistakes. He's not the pureblood snob who bought an orphan muggle to keep as a pet. He saved a muggleborn wizard from the workhouse, raising him to be the hero who defeated the Dark Lord!' Harry was suddenly spun around by a hard yank of his shoulder and slapped, hard, across the left cheek.

'Stop it!' Draco yelled, a sob hiding at the end. 'Don't say that. He loves you. I love you. You _are_ a hero-'

'No, I'm a murderer,' Harry whispered. Draco frowned deeply.

'You defended yourself against the Dark Lord-'

'I killed my godfather.' Draco's bit his tongue at that. Harry turned away again. 'He didn't betray my parents. Pettigrew did. He confessed.' Harry gestured vaguely towards the paper.

'Harry,' Draco pleaded, 'he came running at you in the shape of a giant hound! You were just a child. You could not have known.' Harry sighed when Draco placed a hand on his shoulder and turned back, right into another embrace. This time Harry hid his face and Draco stroked his hair. 'It's too much, Harry,' Draco whispered. Somehow Harry understood and let go, staining Draco's dressing gown with his silent tears.

He knew Draco spoke the truth. Sirius had probably been less than sane thanks to Azkaban. He had probably not even realised he was scaring Harry. Everyone knew of the horrible stories about Azkaban. It was a place no one dared visit, even if one had the closest of relatives locked away there. You never came back the same.

As for being a hero. Harry had just wanted to save Draco. If the world wanted to paint him as something else, then let them say whatever they wanted. He knew the game, he had grown up in Malfoy Manor, after all, and knew Lucius was only playing the game to keep everything peaceful for them. Better a hero than anything else, after all. It would only spell more trouble for Harry at school if Lucius was painted a villain, so milking Harry's heroics for his own benefit was logical. It served the family-

'Draco,' Harry said, almost a question. 'I love you.'

'I love you too,' Draco answered at once, squeezing tightly.

'But what about Lucius? He won't- He may have saved me, but he won't stand for us being together, and I can't stay here if I can't be with you.'

'I'd follow you if it came to that,' Draco whispered.

'No, you couldn't do that,' Harry pulled back so he could look in Draco's eyes. 'You care too much about his opinion. He is your father. He is the closest thing I've had to one, and I…' Harry hung his head. 'I care about his opinion too, despite everything.'

'I do care, a lot,' Draco admitted, smiling sadly. 'But I make my own decisions. I will follow you.' Harry felt a surge of warmth in his heart and hugged Draco tightly yet again.

'That makes me both incredibly relieved and racked with guilt.'

'Guilt I can live with,' Draco confessed and Harry heard the rest of his sentence and pulled back so he could kiss him for it.

XXX

Draco urged Harry to get dressed with him and go downstairs. Lucius would want to know he was awake at last. Harry found himself both nervous and glad at the thought of seeing the man again. He had been so sure Lucius was completely at ease with sacrificing Harry. He couldn't find it in his heart to blame the man for that, as he would have done the exact same thing to save Draco, though perhaps not quite so stone-faced.

But Lucius had only been stone-faced so Voldemort wouldn't suspect his true plan.

Lucius was sitting behind his desk when Draco opened the doors to the study. The man looked up expectantly.

'Something wrong?' he asked, having not spotted Harry behind Draco. When the young Malfoy stepped aside Harry was surprised at the look of relief and the swiftness with which Lucius rose and came forward. 'Harry, you're awake at last.'

'Yes, sir,' Harry answered, not knowing what else to say. Lucius didn't stop and embraced Harry warmly.

'Madam Pomfrey said you would wake, but we still worried,' Lucius said. He stepped back, scrutinizing Harry, who stared back. 'How are you feeling?'

'Fine,' Harry answered. 'Still a bit tired, I suppose, but not sleepy.'

'Well … Pomfrey said the healing sleep would put everything back in order. I want her to have a look at you before you return to Hogwarts. You've both lost a fair bit of classes, but Draco had been keeping up with homework, isn't that right?' Lucius raised an eyebrow in Draco's direction, who nodded dutifully. 'Good. I need to finish a bit of work, but afterwards we will eat together. Perhaps a word alone first…' Draco needed no more prompting and quickly left the pair alone, closing the door softly behind him with only a brief glance of support in Harry's direction.

Harry felt quite uncertain when alone with the man. He gestured towards the sofa in front of the fireplace. Harry went and sat down. Lucius sat heavily beside him, a small sigh escaping.

'Harry, can I assume Draco has told you about what happened?'

'He explained your plan, yes,' Harry said, ducking his head. 'And what has been happening while I was asleep.'

'Good good,' Lucius nodded. 'I haven't been a proper father to you, I know that. I know that in many ways it was wrong of me to take you from the orphanage. I did it for the wrong reason, even though I was only thinking of Draco's wellbeing. I further wronged you when I forced you to lie to everyone about your true identity instead of telling the world the truth. Now that truth is out and I have been doing damage control. Your status as hero has weighed in my favour, and our family's reputation and business will suffer minimal losses. I want you to know, however, that I do not now acknowledge your true identity merely to manipulate public opinion…' Lucius paused and looked Harry straight in the eye. 'I do so because it is my genuine desire to let the world know that you are part of this family.'

Harry looked away. A part of him wanted to be angry at the man, but Harry was not confrontational by nature. He had learned, despite his upbringing, to stand up for himself. So, he asked himself, what did he want?

He wanted to stay with his family, strange as it was.

'Thank you,' he said quietly. 'For everything. You and Professor Snape saved my life when it would have been easier to give me to Voldemort. And whatever your reasons, you saved me from the Workhouse.' They both fell silent, contemplating past wrongs and potential futures. Harry started fiddling with his robe, knowing there was one more issue they had to address. Was Lucius thinking about it to?

'I love Draco,' Harry blurted suddenly, glancing up in shock at Lucius for his daring, and then looking away. He must be mad.

'I know,' Lucius said. 'Draco is quite found of you as well.' Harry's brow furrowed. Was Lucius attempting humour at a time like this? 'Another one of my many mistakes, it seems, was my over-reaction at the … incident. Understand, that my initial reaction was prompted from the belief that you were…' Lucius coughed, but forced himself to continue. 'Attacking Draco in some way.' Harry couldn't help but stare at Lucius in shock. Lucius in turned, glanced away. 'Afterwards I explained it away as a childhood experimenting. However, since neither of you appear to have any desire to stop...'

'You- you'll let us-'

'I love you both,' Lucius interrupted. 'And I cannot stop you without separating you forcibly, which I won't do, as I know the uproar that will cause. I must warn you, however, that I think it will all end in tears in the end, and when that happens, I hope you are both old enough not to put me in the middle.'

'Thank you.' Lucius faced Harry, eyes hard.

'Do not thank me. You are both young and foolish.' Harry couldn't help it, he smiled. He wasn't being forced to choose between Draco and a home.

'For what it's worth, I love you too.' Lucius' eyes softened immediately and he shook his head. Reaching out, he pulled Harry into a half-hug.

'It's worth the world,' he whispered. Harry hugged him back with full force.


	27. The Price of Family

Yes, this is it. Finally finished. I first thought of this story while taking a course on the criminal and poor in 17-19 century England and Norway. That was way back in 2008 or maybe 2007, I can't even remember. Feels like ages ago. Then I kept putting it off, but now here it is all finished. I hope you've all enjoyed this story. Thank you so much for all your kind words. Someone said they wanted more sex, and I do aim to please. Nothing too graphic, though, as this is posted on FF too.

A Big Special Super thank you to Hidden Lily who's been such a quick and wonderful beta. You're awesome!

-:-

Chapter 26: The Price of Family.

'Hurry, Harry!' Draco seemed to flit effortlessly between the people. Harry seemed to bump into every one. Ever since he had become beater for the Slytherin team, thanks to his good arm and great aim, he had felt less than graceful when in crowds. Draco, ever the seeker, all but skipped ahead, though he would never actually resort to undignified skipping.

The fact that the crowd was muggle was the true cause of Harry's problem. In the wizarding world the crowds would part almost instantly when he wandered down Diagon Alley. Even after all these years, he was still the boy who defeated the darkest wizard in a hundred years.

That was why, whenever they had some celebrating to do, or just wanted a break from it all, they escaped into the muggle world for dinner at one of London's best restaurants. Harry knew Lucius loved to milk his aristocratic muggle name for all it was worth, and Harry was always glad to have the attention off him.

This time was a very special occasion. Lucius had just been appointed Head of the new Muggle Liaisons Office, where he would oversee the locating and instructing of muggle-born children. All kinds of muggle-borns were registered and helped in any way they needed. If they were found in the Workhouses or orphanages they were relocated to the Malfoy Orphanarium (so called thanks to Lucius' generous donation) if the muggle institution was deemed below standards.

Draco would be apprenticing with Severus after Christmas, while Harry would be going into Auror training.

It was all a dream come true.

The reason for their delay in beginning their respective careers was due to their taking a tour of Europe, at Lucius' insistence. He had thought all the new sights and experiences would make them see things clearly. When Harry and Draco had come back with their dreams and relationship intact, Lucius had shrugged and said he loved them despite their thickheadedness. Those were just words, Harry knew, and Lucius was as proud as he could be.

Harry managed to stop just in time to avoid walking straight into a passing carriage. He checked both ways this time and hurried over the street. Draco was waiting at the other side. His fashionable muggle clothing suited him more than Harry could ever tell him.

'Come along,' Draco said as if Harry were a child. Harry smiled and followed. They entered the restaurant. Harry loved looking at all the fabulous gowns and white collars. It was all so opulent in a way the wizarding world could never quite imitate. He supposed it was because he knew it was all done by hand, instead of being held together by magic.

Their coats were taken and they were shown to their table, where Harry could see Lucius was already sitting, along with another muggle he didn't recognise. They appeared to be talking intimately; clearly they knew each other well.

They rose when the two young men approached.

'Harry, Draco,' Lucius greeted.

'So sorry we're late, Father,' Draco apologised.

'Nothing to worry, I had Mr. Baines here to entertain me,' Lucius said, gesturing to the man beside him. 'Mr. Baines, allow me to introduce my boys. Draco, my son, and Harry Potter, my charge- or, rather not anymore.' They all shook hands as Lucius introduced them with a smile. 'Mr. Baines is the President of the Poor Law Board and a Member of the Privy Council.' Neither Harry nor Draco knew what those positions meant, but if he was a friend of Lucius, it was clear he was important. Harry was staring at the man, trying to figure out where he had seen him before. The name was- then it clicked. The man appeared not to recognise Harry, but it was the very same Mr. Baines who had helped Harry get back to the Workhouse of his childhood.

'A pleasure to finally meet you both,' Mr. Baines said. 'Lucius has spoken of you often, especially you, Harry.' The young man frowned slightly as he shook the man's hand, glancing at Lucius who suddenly looked slightly uncomfortable.

'Please, Matthew,' he said softly. 'Let's not-'

'You must forgive me,' Mr. Baines said with a wink at Harry. 'I can never resist praising Lucius' work with the Workhouses. Without him I'm sure our Workhouses would still be in the dark ages.' Lucius was about to speak up again, but Mr. Baines held up his hand. 'I won't embarrass you any further. I should be going at any rate. Thank you for the chat, Lucius. I'll see you again soon I hope.'

'Yes, of course.' The man left with another round of handshakes and the three remaining sat down silently. A waiter poured water for them and handed out menus. Lucius seemed reluctant to speak. Harry's frown hadn't left his face. Draco seemed to be biting his tongue.

'How … how long have you been working with Mr. Baines?' Harry finally asked. Lucius sighed and put down his menu. He took a sip of the whiskey he had been enjoying.

'Ask what you really wish to know,' Lucius said.

'If you know what I wish to know, why not tell me?' Harry countered. Lucius looked him in the eye.

'The focus of my work has always been on muggle-borns trapped in muggle institutions. The improvement of the Workhouses was a means to improve their lives.'

'Oh.' Despite this, Harry felt a surge of affection and pride for the man. Some still called him arrogant and even cruel, but he always had another surprise up his sleeve. Harry glanced at Draco, who gave him a knowing smile and touched his hand briefly. They went back to their menus.

XXX

'I can't believe he's been improving muggle workhouses for years without our knowledge,' Harry said later that evening. He was standing by the bed, loosening his collar and pulling off his necktie. Harry and Draco still shared a room at Malfoy Manor, but it was in a separate wing than Lucius', with a proper sitting room and study. Lucius hadn't wanted them so far away at first, but Draco had worn him down in the end, threatening to move out entirely if they weren't treated as adults. Besides, it was all the same house still, the same home.

'Quite shocking, I agree,' Draco said from right behind Harry. His arms snaked round the broader man, and those quick elegant fingers began unbuttoning Harry's vest. Harry smiled and let him, knowing this was Draco's favourite reason for wearing muggle clothing. 'Next we'll find out he's been secretly cuddling puppies.' Harry snorted.

'I've met Mr. Baines before,' Harry said, and Draco's fingers stilled. 'He helped me get to the Workhouse after I'd run away from home. I remember things were much better, but it was overshadowed by my … emptiness. I guess I didn't really think about it at the time.'

'He didn't recognise you,' Draco commented.

'No, but I only spoke to him for a few moments.'

'I would have remembered you,' Draco said, continuing his work. Harry smiled again and allowed Draco to pull off the vest and shirt. He stood still, closing his eyes as Draco moved about the room and blew out the lights until only a few candles were left. He didn't bother holding in his soft gasp as Draco's hands returned, running over his chest. Harry tilted his head back onto Draco's shoulder. In height they were now almost equal. Draco had finally had his growth spurt in their sixth year.

'I remember the first time I ever saw Lucius,' Harry said, keeping his voice low. Draco hummed and began kissing Harry's neck and shoulders. 'I thought he was a prince or king, with his long hair and fancy clothes. Then he picked me.'

'Hmmm, and then I picked you,' Draco murmured, clearly trying to distract Harry from his somber thoughts. Harry turned and Draco's lips were immediately on his.

'Thank you for that,' Harry whispered as he pulled Draco's buttons open, ripping it open as their urgency rose. Even after a year of shagging themselves silly across Europe, they could still act like hormone infested wizards. When Draco's shirt was finally off, Harry was abruptly pushed backwards with enough force for him to bounce slightly when he hit the bed. Draco smirked down at him, then leaned over to undo Harry's trousers. He took his time, allowing their passion to mellow again.

'You know, we should find Father someone nice,' he commented as he pulled at Harry's trousers, taking everything down with them. Harry obligingly lifted his hips.

'I don't think he'll appreciate that,' Harry said, not really following the conversation as Draco was slowly undoing his own trousers, swaying his hips slightly.

'I think he was a bit lonely while we were gone.' Harry made an impatient noise. Draco's smirk was in place, as it usually was when he had Harry in his current state. Harry could hardly complain. He loved the way Draco would tease him until he cracked, then allow Harry to have his way with him. He knew it was all part of Draco's plan.

'A nice witch, high society of course so we know she's not in it for the money,' Draco continued as if he wasn't dropping his undergarments. 'But not too high society. We don't want some snob who's only in it for the Malfoy name.'

'That's it.' Harry pounced. He dragged Draco onto the bed, eliciting a muttered 'finally' from Draco, and then rolled them over. They both groaned as their skin connected all over. Draco's skin was always so soft and delicious. Harry thanked his stars every day he got the opportunity. Their relationship had matured and deepened after the Voldemort incident. They still had their problems. Draco would never get along with Hermione for example, and Harry would never be comfortable around the other Slytherins.

'Quick,' Draco gasped, pushing his hips up repeatedly.

'Oh, now you're impatient, are you?' Harry growled, pressing Draco down and grabbing the man's wrists. Draco was so handsome in the candlelight, Harry wanted to kiss every inch of him.

Even though they were young and foolish, according to Lucius, they weren't complete idiots. During their year abroad they had decided to experiment, both apart and together. It had only served to somehow strengthen whatever was between them.

'Don't stop,' Draco moaned as Harry sucked on his neck. Draco mumbled a spell, so familiar these days that he could do it wandless. Harry knew what it meant and positioned himself.

Their joining was easy, but intense, as always. Harry gave a deep groan and rose up on his elbows to get leverage. Draco immediately locked his legs around him and bucked.

That was a clear sign that Draco wanted it hard and rough, and Harry was always very obliging in the sack. Well, usually. Now he forced Draco's legs down, lay himself down, kissed Draco hard and moved, slowly. Draco mewled in protest, but Harry never relented.

'You're horrible,' Draco gasped when Harry moved to nibble on an earlobe.

'From you, I'll take that as a compliment.' Harry finally picked up the pace.

'It. Was,' Draco panted with each thrust. He gave one last moan and went boneless. Harry did the same a few moments later. Harry rolled over, letting his breathing calm down.

As they came down from their high, Harry couldn't help but marvel at how different things were, yet completely the same. A few years ago, Draco barely made any noises when they were together. Afraid of being caught, mostly. Such a silly detail to get caught up in, but Harry was so absorbed in his odd musings he didn't even notice Draco leaning up on an elbow and staring down at him.

'Harry? Are you still thinking about the Workhouse?' Draco asked, clearly worried. Harry smiled and couldn't help a small chuckle.

'No, I was actually thinking about your sex noises.'

'What?' Draco sounded indignant. 'I do not make anything as barbaric as sex noises!'

'You do, just to make me crazy too,' Harry said. Draco didn't say anything, which meant it was true. 'I love you for that.' Draco reached out and traced Harry's face. Forehead, nose and lips.

'I'm glad I make you happy,' Draco said softly. He leaned down and gave him a kiss. Then snuggled up and went to sleep.

Quite a sappy evening, all together, but that was a small price to pay, wasn't it?

The End.


End file.
